


I Don't Love You, I'm Just Passing The Time (taking a break from again)

by orphan_account



Category: Bandom, Panic! at the Disco, literally every band that came into contact with panic ever
Genre: F/M, M/M, Partying, Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-30
Updated: 2016-08-08
Packaged: 2018-06-05 08:21:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 50,479
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6697192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>*** work pending***<br/>edit as of 5/24/17: I wont be continuing this, sorry.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. First Impressions

**Author's Note:**

> Some of this fic is canon and some of it is non-canon. Events, places, shows and people are canon, but the actions may or may not be canon. No one knows for sure, so this is just speculation.  
> I'll add the characters to the list as they appear in the fic.  
> Sorry it's a work in progress lmao. I'm trying.  
> 

 I pace back and forth in Spencer’s grandma’s basement, all the while he is giving me an exasperated look. There isn’t much room to pace though, given all our things are spread out everywhere. His drum set, my guitar, two mic stands, and a couple of speakers that are way too big to be in this basement.

“He said he’d be here almost an hour ago,” I mutter, more to myself but since Spencer hears everything he stares at me harder. As if he could. He thinks I’m overreacting. I am, but he doesn’t need to know he’s right.

“It’s Brent. Honestly Ryan. What did you expect?” Spence replies, his eyes tracking my pacing. He’s always so calm and that’s why we’ve been friends for so long. He can handle everything that is wrong with me and take it in stride. Plus it helps that he’s so good at drumming.

“I don’t know Spence, but if you’re coming to try out for a band, and bringing another person along, the least you could do is be on time, or maybe five minutes late. But this is just-ughhh” I interrupt myself by throwing my hands up and groaning. I run my fingers through the hair that hangs in front of my eyes and brush it to the side. I know I shouldn’t be so agitated but I’m expected home at a certain time, or my dad won’t be too happy with me. Not like he ever is though, but coming home late would not help my case. Spencer knows this. He’s the only person who knows this, which I why I don’t understand as to how he’s so calm right now.

“Ryan, you’re working yourself up for nothing. They get here when they get here, pacing isn’t going to help”. Damn Spencer for always being the calm and collected one in our friendship. Everyone looks at the two of us and assumes I’m the most relaxed person in existence, that I’m never the one to pace in the middle of a band mate’s grandmothers basement waiting for two other boys to join us so we can start a ‘boyband’. Not, that I wanted it to be called a boyband, that’s just what we are. Or will be if Brent and the other kid ever get here.

“If they’re not here in the next ten minutes I’m heading home. My dad wanted me home by nine, any later and you know how he’ll get-”

“Ryan has he been-”

“Spence-”

“Ryan. If he’s been drink-”

“Drop it Spence, I shouldn’t have said anything in the first place. Just. Don’t,” I mutter as I stop pacing.

“Said anything about what?” Brent announces as he enters the basement finally and I almost snap my neck as I whip it around to face him. If he heard any part of mine and Spence’s conversation I don’t know what I would do. Spence is the only person who knows about my family, and he’s also the only person I want to know about it. Brent is definitely not a person I want to add to that already short list.

“Hey Brent! Little late there?” Spence chimes in, quickly drawing the attention away from our conversation.

“Yeah, sorry Brendon’s parents couldn’t know he was coming to a ‘band practice’ of sorts, so it took a bit of convincing,” Brent adds with his hands air quoting around the words “band practice”.

“So how did you convince them?” Spence asks.

“So his name is Brendon? Why couldn’t you just tell us over the phone what his name was? Why can’t his parents know he might be in a band? And where is he?” I also ask, exactly at the same time as Spencer. Great job Ryan, asking the important questions.

Brent stares at me with a slightly questioning look before he shakes his head as if to clear a thought out of his mind.

“Yes, his name is Brendon. I couldn’t because I didn’t know if it was actually going to be him or another guy I brought. His parents can’t know because he’s a Mormon. And he’s getting out of the car and grabbing the instruments. Does that satisfy your needs Ryan?” Brent replies rapidly. “Jeesh, why do you want to know so much about him already, huh Ry?” he continues with a smirk on his face. A smirk doesn’t really fit him. He’s kind of tall, and a bit bigger than me and Spence, his hair falling just short of his chin. A smirk just looks awkward on him. Then again, I can’t talk.

“I just want to know. I don’t see the big deal in asking questions,” I shoot towards Brent and Spencer gives me another one of his raised eyebrows. He knows me and Brent haven’t really been the best of friends since we started Pet Salamander, but I’ve never really snapped at him.  
Brent just throws up his hands in mock surrender and laughs.

“My bad Ross, my bad. Didn’t mean anything by it,” he states with a bit of a laugh. I fake laugh so maybe he’ll stop talking.

“How long does it take to grab instruments out of a car I mean-” I begin, but a new voice interrupts mine.

“Oh, uh sorry. I was trying to hurry but I couldn’t decide what guitar to grab and um, yeah,” the voice finishes, quieting down significantly towards the end of the statement. I like this voice. It’s one of those voices that’s unique. One you could hear in a room full of people and know exactly who it was. Not only was it that, but it was beautiful. It was soft and warm and it was everything and he had only spoken a few words.  
I’m quick to turn all the way around and face him. Brendon. I’m surprised. His voice doesn’t match him. Average height, but lanky. Dark brown, almost black hair, a bowl cut if I might add. And he’s wearing these black glasses with tape in the middle holding them together. I’m completely put off by the oxymoronic-ness of that which is Brendon. I’m so put off by it that I realize I haven’t stopped staring at him since I turned around. It is then that I step forward with my hand outstretched.

“Sorry about that, I’m just a little impatient, um I’m um Ryan. Ryan Ross, well really George Ryan Ross the Third but you can just call me Ryan,” I curse myself silently for blabbing every time I try to speak to someone. Brendon takes my hand and shakes it quickly.

“Oh I’m Brendon. But you already knew that. I think. I hope. Uh, my last name is Urie. And um, I’m here cause Brent said you guys are in a band- which I can see now- um and I can play the guitar and the piano, and a couple of other things, and yeahhhh” Brendon sputters out quickly, his voice again dying towards the end of his sentence.

Brent and Spence, who were, up until now, conversing silently with each other, look up at the two of us. Brent looks bored, and maybe angry? But Spence nods at me and says,

“So guys maybe we could get started? Ryan has to be home by nine and it’s already seven now-"

"Do you guys wanna hear my impression of Gollum?" Brendon interrupts and I can't help the smile that forms on my face.

"Well that was a bit unexpected, but I don't see why not. Lord Of The Rings are some of Ryan and I's favorite movies," Spence replies laughing slightly. Brendon beams and launches into a surprisingly and scary accurate impression of the hellish creature that always scared me as a kid when we watched the movies. Though after a few minutes of laughter and trying to compare our impressions, and me trying to explain how Legolas is underrated, Spencer taps me on the shoulder and points at the clock hanging on the wall. 

We've only got about an hour and a half to continue practice and we haven't even heard Brendon play yet. I nod at Spence in a silent acknowledgement to get things going. While Brent and Brendon are laughing about something on the couch Spence coughs loud to get their attention, "Hey Brendon, do you know any Blink?”

“Yeah, I love them!” Brendon replies, breaking from his conversation, most of his attention pointed towards Spence and I now. When I glance at Brent a strange expression crosses his face but it's gone quickly. I'm haven't really enjoyed some of the looks Brent has been giving lately, so much that I might have to talk to him sometime soon about it.

“Where did a Mormon learn Blink?” I interrupt, directing my gaze back to Brendon.

“I’ll never tell,” he answers with a sly smile and I grin. He seems to have already enthralled Spencer. Brent was friends with him before. And I might just enjoy his presence. Brendon is the kind of person we need in this band, someone to keep the atmosphere light. And maybe a bit less awkward. 

“How about we cover Adam’s Song? I know it’s not the happiest of their songs but it’s the first on I thought of?” Spence suggests, and we all nod in agreement.  
Spencer is already sitting at his drum set and Brent grabbed his bass from Brendon when he walked in. Brendon doesn’t have an electric guitar but I have two. So I hand one to him and we all set up in a circle almost. Brendon and I at the mics and Spence and Brent opposite us.

I nod and count to four and Brent kicks off with the opening bass. Spence joining in on the drums at the correct time. Then I begin to sing. I’ve never really liked my voice, but Spence said it’s a nice voice. A different voice. We make it seamlessly through the first chorus. Brendon is actually really good and I’m surprised. Around to the second chorus Brendon begins to sing. I don’t know if he realizes it, but he sings with his eyes closed into the mic with a little flick of his head at times. Just when I thought his voice could get better he raises it and belts the chorus a third time. I realize I’ve stopped singing. He still doesn’t. Spence stops playing. He never does. We make eye contact and he just grins. I think we’ve found our new lead singer.

Brendon finally realizes both me and Spence have stopped singing and playing and he stops abruptly. His face goes beet red but I just stare at him and give a little smirk. I’m not good at smirking.

“I think we’ve found a new lead singer,” I state simply looking at Brendon now. His embarrassment seems to fade mildly.

“Nah, I mean like you guys can’t possibly have me join this quick I mean, that was just me messing around-” Brendon tries to interrupt but I cut him off by laughing, it’s a horrible choked sound but it stops his speaking.

“Brendon, I think we’re sure. Even you just messing around was better than my voice-” at this he raises an eyebrow as if to stop me from being so self-depreciating, but I continue on, “-and plus I only have around three songs written so far. So we can record them ourselves and if you don’t like it…well we can figure something out. But I like the sound of your voice.” He gives me a look, one of which I can’t tell what he’s thinking, but for some reason I feel heat rise to my face. I duck my head and my shoulder length hair falls into my eyes. _What kind of shit was that Ross? 'I like the sound of your voice'? Could you have sounded any creepier?_ An awkward amount of silence follows until Spencer - who just now decides to chime in and save me - replies to Brendon,

“Yeah, Brendon of course! I agree with Ryan, your voice is really nice, I mean it’s a little untrained, but you’ve got raw talent. Let’s meet up here tomorrow at the same time, well maybe a little earlier, cause were cutting it close, and then we can go over the songs Ryan wrote and then hopefully get this started. That sound good everyone?”

Brent, Brendon and I all chime in with various ‘yeahs’ and ‘yeses’. For some reason I can’t meet Brendon’s eyes when he looks towards me.

“Yeah tomorrow here is great. And sorry guys I have to go or I’ll be late back home. But uh, yeah I’ll see you. Tomorrow that is,” I manage to tumble out. Dashing up the stairs I almost trip on the top step and have to catch myself on the railing. We’re lucky Spence’s Grandma let us use this place. It’s on the market to sell soon, so everything is empty except the basement where we’ve basically taken residence. It’s also my home away from home, since I’m not really on good terms with my father, ever. That and he’s almost never home and I lost my only key. Too scared to ask for a new one.

When I manage pull my bike up in the driveway right at nine I notice my dad is waiting outside for me.

“Do you not know how to read boy? Do you not own a watch?” he demands as I lay my bike down near the garage. Maybe I could lie, but there isn’t a good one I could think of in this span of time. I could have thought of one while I was riding home but my mind was on other things. So instead I’m just honest with him.

“It’s nine right now, I’m not late? You wanted me home at nine right?” I reply calmly, not stepping forward. I know he’s drunk, I can smell the whiskey radiating from him, from the house.

“Your memory sure seems to be failing you lately. I told you this-” he burps loudly “-this morning to be home by eight tonight so you could cook me dinner. I had to make that damn dinner all by myself. ‘N I figured that since I made it, I could eat it. There isn’t any left for you. Guess you shoulda gotten home earlier, huh George? George. Huh, you know I don’t think you deserve that name. That’s my name. You’re not good enough for that name, you know that?” he carries on, the volume of his voice raising. He steps forward slowly, a bit of a sway in his step and grabs my shoulder tightly, “You hear me boy? You don’t deserve MY name.”

I go to reply that I agree with him when his fist drives into my stomach. The wind rushes out of my lungs and I double over. His hand still digging into my shoulder is the only thing keeping me from falling to the grass in front of our house. The next thing I know his knee flies towards my face and I’m on my back now. My right eye throbs and I reach up to put any sort of pressure on it, to do anything to stop him. Out of my other eye I see him raise his foot, like he’s going to finally do it, he’s gonna bash my head in. My arm raises up to shield my face on its own accord, I certainly didn’t feel like stopping him though. But he does, his booted foot stops just inches away from my nose. It almost looks like a moment of clarity and something else passes over his features, but it’s gone in an instant. His assault stops and he just tells me to ‘get my ass up and get inside before the neighbors see’. I'd like to think that I stood up and walked off proudly. 


	2. Another Time Around?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The band tries to get serious with the music, but Ryan's home life gets in the way. Brendon finds out some interesting information about Ryan. And Ryan is problematic like always.

I don't go to school today, not because I care about people seeing my bruises, but because I hate school. I'm smart, and I don't really have to try, I already have a scholarship to go to college, so it's not like I have to do anything in school anymore. So instead I leave the house to get away from my father, who is currently sleeping on the couch with an unlit cigarette hanging from his open mouth and a bottle of Jack on the floor, a drop of the amber liquid falling from the opening onto a growing brown stain on the carpet. Or at least that's how he was when I left this morning. But before leaving I grab  _Invisible Monsters_ from my nightstand, not like I need it to read, I've memorized the whole thing since the first time I read it. 

I decide on heading to Spence's grandma's house, our practice space. My bike is still in the front yard where I left it last night, and the seat is wet from the overnight dew. I pull my already long jacket sleeve over my fist and wipe the seat off and then I realize now the sleeve is wet and I don't know how I feel about that, I don't know if I care. 

I can only halfway see out of my swollen eye, so the bike ride to Spence's grandmas is a little more difficult than I expected. Each time I try to pedal my foot slips off because my perception is off; having only one and a half working eyes tends to do that to you. But somehow I manage to make it to the house all body parts still intact and fully functional. The spare key we all use is underneath the brick sitting not so inconspicuously right next to the front door. We never really cared to find a better hiding spot so it just stuck. My hair falls over my eyes as I reach down to push the brick aside but the key isn't there. I lift the brick up just in case I missed something because it can't be missing. It shouldn't be. No one else knows about it except us....unless Spence decided to skip also? When I straighten up to knock on the door I'm greeted by a new, but not unfamiliar face. Brendon. But why would he be here? The Mormon skipping school? Was that even allowed? He stands in the doorway, funny, I never heard the door open, with a slightly confused look on his face. I open my mouth to speak but he cuts me off,

"Sorry, I uh, was just taking a look around the place, and I saw you were at the door, and then I realized I brought the key in which was a really stupid idea and I'll put it back now. And I'm rambling, so I'm just gonna ask, what are you doing here?" 

"Funny, I was going to ask you the same question. Are Mormons even allowed to miss school? And how did you know where the key was?" I reply, raising an eyebrow he probably can't see through my hair. Suddenly I'm aware of the fact that it is hanging in my eyes and that Brendon can't see my eyes. How is he supposed to make eye contact with me if he can't even see my eyes? Then again his hair is in his eyes to. He has a bowl cut. Funny, I noticed that yesterday, so I don't know why I'm staring at his hair. Then I realized I've been staring for too long and he's been speaking. I push my hair out of my face and behind my ear. "I uh-what were you saying? Sorry".

"I was saying it's funny that you ask that, Mormons aren't aliens, we can do 'regular people' things. But yeah, I can skip school, it's not like it matters anyways, I'm failing most of my classes. And uh I was also saying Spence told me where the key was when you left yesterday so I just came over. And then I was also asking what happened to your face? Man you really were distracted when I was talking, something on your mind? Problems at home?" he replies and I want to cringe away from him, but then that would make it obvious that I'm trying to avoid his question and that would make me look, well weird. So instead I just laugh a little and shrug. 

"What you've never seen someone who fell off their bike one too many times?" and then I realize he said he was failing, so I add, "You're failing? You need help?". I don't know why I add that because it's not like I'm gonna tutor him. I’ve tried tutoring kids for money and I just get fed up with their idiocrasy in the ways of understanding calculus. But I’ve already put the offer out there and taking it back would make me an asshole. So I just stay quiet for once. 

"Nah, I'm doing just enough to get by, and I still have another year to shape up I guess. Thanks though for the offer. But are you sure there's nothing I can do about your 'falling off the bike problem'?" he asks, his voice a murmur even though it doesn't have to be because we're outside. I hate that I notice all the little things.

"We just met yesterday and you're already offering to beat up my bike? If I needed help I would've asked Spence, not someone I just met" I reply not so kindly. Angry that he suddenly feels the need ask me about my problems. MY problems. My personal problems. "Are you gonna let me inside or just keep me waiting out here? I have something I wanted to do and doing it inside would be the best option." I don't know why I'm suddenly angry. Or maybe I do? But then again I never really understand some of the things I say or do. It's like another person decides to speak for me. Act for me. Be me. 

Brendon only quirks an eyebrow, and a hurt look crosses his face quickly but it's gone. He's good at controlling his emotions, or at least better than me. He steps aside and gestures with his arm for me to enter. 

"I'll uh just be downstairs then," he mumbles quickly and begins to make his way to the basement. I go to tell him that I'm going down there to read and work on songs, but he's already heading down the stairs. He ran off pretty quickly. I let out a huff and close and lock the door. Someday I'll stop being such an asshole, but today is not that day. Clenching the book in my hands I descend into the basement and am greeted with the sound of Brendon strumming his Martin. It's one of the demos I wrote. I stop halfway down, hoping I haven't already alerted him to my presence. He hums along the lyrics, occasionally singing out loud some parts. His voice isn't as great as it could be, but it's still better than anything I can sing at this point, and it has a certain quality to it, that I've yet to figure out. Then I notice which song it is. I titled it ‘Camisado’; a surprise attack during night or daybreak, when the enemy is sleeping. It's not his song to sing. It wasn't meant to be sung. He can't sing it because it’s not his dad the song is describing its mine. Yet he makes it sound beautiful. This song that wasn't supposed to be heard by anyone other than me or Spence. But yet. Yet. The way he sings it makes it seem like it's not real, it didn't happen. Made it so that my father never did those things. I shouldn't be so affected by this, it's just a song. He looks up at that moment, his trance broken. I don't realize the reason for it until he looks down at the stair ending and I see my book lying there. How did it get there? 

"I uh, just that song is, it's personal and I just never thought I'd hear it sang by anyone else. I told Spence not to put it on the demo list but he said I needed to. And you sing it well and I guess I was surprised, that's all, so I dropped my book. Now I'm the rambling one, so uh I guess continue, I'm just going to be reading and working on stuff, uh over there," I force out, gesturing vaguely to the other side of the basement where an armchair sits. 

"You already told me what you were going to do. And I didn't know it was personal, I'll stop if you want me to," he replies and maybe it's supposed to sound a little angry but he also seems to lack the hurt behind his words. 

"I know, I just figured I'd say it again. Clarify things you know? And no, it's fine, I mean by all means continue. You have to learn the songs anyways, and that's probably the most difficult one, so the others should seem like nothing compared to that...." I trail off as he nods. I'm not sure if it's in agreement or just to get me to stop talking. "So yeah, okay I'm gonna read. And you're gonna learn the songs. So we're all good here".

"Yeah, thanks for clarifying," he laughs a little, "I'll just get to playing. And you'll get to reading". He laughs again. I don't get what's so funny. Did my hair fall in my face again? I hope so, I don't like him seeing it like this. The only other person who has was Spence. 

"So I'm gonna read".

"And I'm gonna play".

"Yes". 

"Yeah". 

"Alright then".

"Good". 

I decide to stop with the one word answers there and I actually make my way to the chair instead of standing dumbly in the middle of the basement. Surrounded by our instruments.

By the time I sit down and open my book Brendon is playing and humming along again. He doesn't notice that I'm not actually reading. He doesn't notice that I don't turn the pages while he sings. He doesn't notice that I listen to him sing all three songs. He also doesn't notice the smile hidden behind the book. Because he wouldn't understand that I finally have someone who can sing the songs when I can't make it through them.

***

I wake up to the sound of Spencer yelling as he walks down the stairs. 

"What do you mean his face is bruised? He's been here the whole day? You've been here the whole day? Aren't you a Mormon?" his yelling increases as he descends into the basement. I hear Brendon try to answer something along the lines of "Mormons aren't aliens, we miss school", but that makes me laugh because, well the thought of aliens hiding inside every Mormon is funny. But apparently Spencer doesn't agree with my inner monologue. He storms over and forces me up into a sitting position and grabs my chin. I try to jerk it free but he tightens his grip. "Did he do this to you?" he demands. "And don't try and smart your way out of this, you know who I'm talking about. Answer me honestly Ryan Ross". 

I try and push his hand away and fix my hair because all this jerking me around has made my hair fall into my face again, and I don't know why Spence is overreacting. You can hardly see anything with my hair covering it. That's why it's this long. It helps cover everything. I can't push his hand away though. 

"Yes. Alright? Fine. He did it. Are you happy you have evidence now? Finally get what you want Spence?" I shoot back, with more anger than I intended. 

"Don't be like that with me Ryan. You know I'm not like that. I'm your best friend. A best friend who had to be told by another person where you were and what was wrong with you. I'm your best friend who cares about you Ryan and I don't like this. I don't like that he can just do this shit to you and you take it! Do you think you deserve this? In some fucked up way do you honestly think you do? Because you don't!" he yells. But I can't listen. I can only focus on the fact that Brendon is standing at the foot of the steps with one arm hanging by his side and the other crossing his body to hold that dangling arm. His eyes are cast downward so I can't make eye contact. It's not like it matters anyways. His and my hair are in both of our eyes. I wish he wasn't here but at the same time I'm glad he is. Maybe if he hears how fucked up I am he'll leave. I don't want him to leave, but I don't think most people would want to be in a band with a boy who takes beatings from his father. It's just another problem I bring to the band. Through all this line of thinking I realize that I shouldn't care about him either way, if he's here or not. I really should stop thinking about him, but there's something intriguing about him. My thoughts are scattered yet again when Spencer's grip hardens on my chin. "Jesus are you even listening? Or should I just stop now and let you wallow in self pity?" he demands. 

"Spence, you're overreacting big time man," I try to joke, but it comes out kind of choked. 

"I'm just sick and tired of this always happening. We've been friends for almost eleven years now and the amount of times I've seen you with bruises on your face or...other places makes me sick! Something or somebody needs to stop him, and if you won't I will. And if it's me, it's not gonna be pretty, I hope you realize that". I've never seen him so angry before. Well maybe the one time when my dad broke my arm, and I didn't know what to do so I ran to Spencer's house in the middle of the night. His mom took me to the emergency room and we said it had just been a bicycle accident. When we got back to her house I cried. I had never cried, not once. Not even when my mom left us. I cried because I didn't know someone cared about me. Spence had yelled at me the whole rest of the night for covering for my father and lying about how my arm was broken. I cried when he yelled at me. Then he hugged me. It was the first hug I had received in ten years. I was fifteen years old. I haven't cried since, and I still haven't been hugged since then either. 

So I don't know why I cry this time. I'm eighteen years old and I'm crying like a child because I'm being confronted about being abused. Wow, life really has an interesting way of being a bitch when you didn't ask for it. So I decide to change the subject, because that's what I do. Because when all goes to hell you ignore it. Spence has let go of my face since my inner monologue came up, and now I'm free to brush the hair out of my face. I also quickly brush away the tears. Brendon shouldn't see that. I don't want him to. I don't want Spence to either, but it's already happened and I can't change it now. But the one person I can't have see me like this is Brent. Which reminds me,

"Where's Brent?" I ask quietly. Spencer throws his hands up with an exasperated groan. 

"I don't fucking know Ryan. Why the fuck are you worried about Brent? Did you not hear me? Listen to a word I said?" I try not to meet his eyes as I repeat my question. Brendon replies. It's his first time speaking since telling Spencer where I was.

"He can't make it. Said there was a family thing". His voice is quiet. Not it's normal tenor pitch. Maybe he's officially freaked out. He thinks he’s found a band, yet he walks straight into a crazy house. Right into the pile of shit that is my life. 

"Oh," I don't really know how else to respond. Anything I say is gonna make Spence even more mad so I just opt for a, "So are we gonna get practicing anytime soon?"

"Of course Ryan. Anything you want. It's not like you listen anyways." I nod and stand because there's nothing else to say or do. Brendon is still standing at the foot of the stairs. So I motion towards his guitar, "You gonna pick it up so we can get started? I gotta be home by eight thirty again". 

Spencer goes to open his mouth but clenches his fists and takes his place behind the drums in the center of the room. 

"Another time around then?" I ask before nodding to Spence, who glares, but kicks off with the start of my demo "Boys Will Be Boys". 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The book Ryan mentions in the beginning "Invisible Monsters" is the book that inspired "Time To Dance". Also "Time To Dance" was originally "Boys will be Boys" so that's what I mean by that in the end of the chapter. Also yikes, Ryan is very problematic and Spence is a gr8 dude.


	3. Camisado

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brendon an Ryan get to know each other a little more and find out some interesting things. Again. Brent doesn't show up to practice. Again.

It's been a whole month since 'The Episode' or at least that's what I refer to it as. Spence doesn't refer to it at all. Brent has been to all of the practices even though he doesn't contribute much. He tries to learn the songs but he doesn't really do much else. I'm not saying it's bad, because it's not, but it's not very helpful. Brendon, however has only been to two practices and we've had about twelve. I'm starting to think maybe he's just letting us down easy, regressing his way out of the band. He probably realized how truly screwed up this whole situation was, and his little Mormon self couldn't handle that. I don't know how I feel though. Whether to be disappointed or not. But I also don't know why I should care, he's just one person who I've known for a couple days and whom I've talked to maybe three times. One of those times I was spilling my sob story because he wasn't supposed to find out my dad is a piece of shit. No one was. 

And here I am, laying in my bed thinking about this stupid Mormon boy with his stupid bowl cut and his stupid voice. I'm supposed to be getting ready for school because I can't miss another day, we're in the last quarter of school and exams are being reviewed and 'everyone has to be there because it's a participation grade'. But yet I find myself just wondering why he hasn't shown up. He could've at least called, it affects the band to. Then I decide that's why I'm thinking about him. It's for the sake of the band, because without the lead singer there would be no band. With that decision made and Brendon out of my mind for now I force myself out of the bed and get ready for another day in hell. 

I avoid most people in school. My hair hangs into my face slightly and I hope it covers the still fading bruises left by my father. I'm glad for my hair as well because everyone think I'm strange and quiet. I don't know how shoulder length hair achieves that status, but apparently it does, because in the four years I've gone to Bishop Gorman, I've had approximately two friends. Not that I mind. I don't like anyone very much either. 

Spencer and I sit with our mutual friend Adam at lunch. Adam would be alright if he hadn't been the person my only girlfriend cheated on me with. He doesn't know that I know, and I don't really care. It's more her I'm spiteful towards rather than him. It's not like he could help it right? Right? So I pretend to like him for Spencer's sake, because they've been friends since freshman year and Spencer tells me he's a refreshing contrast from the brooding me. When I try to tell him I'm not brooding he laughs and replies with "only when you're high". I want to deny the fact, but that's why it's a fact. It's not like I get stoned every day, it's just sometimes when life gets a bit rough I'll hit up my only other friend William, who may or may not hang out with some questionable dudes. But that's none of my business. We only have one kind of business with each other. But honestly it's not like I get high every day, just enough to get me through high school, and life. And today is one of those days it'll be my business. 

When lunch ends I don't have any classes afterwards because I had enough credits last year to graduate. And I don't really feel like going home. I haven't spoken to my dad since he left these marks on my face, and it's probably for the best. I might have worked up the nerve to hit back for once, but I don't want to test the theory out. 

So the only option, other than my house is Spencer's grandma's. I hope the key is in the right place this time, I would hate to have to go home. 

The bike ride to the house isn't that long and it isn't very eventful. My coordination is still slightly off, I might have a concussion, but it's not like it's affecting me. I hope. When I reach the house and set my bike down I notice the brick is where it's supposed to be. When I push it to the side this time, the key is actually there and I quickly unlock the door and head inside. Sometimes I remember how creepy it is, the house. Everything is gone and it's completely white. Like the inside of a hospital. I hate hospitals. I really hate hospitals. I take off my boots by the front door, careful not to make the carpet dirty, and set them down. My newsboy hat follows, mostly because I don't need it to keep my hair out of my face anymore. That was only for the bike ride here. 

As I make my way down the stairs I freeze. There's a soft humming coming from just below, followed with the strum of a guitar. How can he skip so much school? Brendon looks up as I reach the end of the stair well. At first he doesn't say anything, but then he smiles. It's a really nice smile, and I only wish the one I return is half as good as his. 

"Was that The Killers you we're playing?" I ask quietly. I don't know why I'm quiet, it's just us and no one is here to tell us to be quiet. But I am.

"Yeah, you know them?"

"That was 'All These Things I've Done' right?" comes my reply. My voice sounding more firm this time.

"I take it you're a fan then? They're still kind of new so I didn't expect anyone to really know much of their stuff". Brendon sounds tired. No scratch that, I haven't known him long enough to tell the difference between whether he's tired or not. I just like to make assumptions apparently. But I still can think he's tired, because he yawns before I reply.

"Yeah, I listened to them when it came out last year and they're pretty good. Plus it helps that they're from Vegas to, so they got known pretty quick around here. Or at least I learned all their songs pretty quickly. That's actually my favorite song by the way. You played it pretty nice," I reply and for some reason my voice got quiet again. I feel a slight heat to my cheeks but I pretend I don't. Thankfully Brendon doesn't notice or doesn't care to poke fun at it. "A Mormon listening to them? What kind of Mormon are you?" I tease, hoping to distract him from my slight slip up. 

"Wow, I'm never gonna live the Mormon thing down am I?" he replies with a little laugh. "My family is a Mormon family, and I say I'm a Mormon, but that's only because I'm still living with my parents. I don't really want to be a Mormon anymore," he adds with a slight frown, but also with a slight laugh as if he's in on a joke. "My recent and apparent 'lack of faith'," air quotes around the 'lack of faith' part, "made my parents pretty mad. They found out that I've been going here. My sister followed me and Brent. She told my parents I was in an underground band that was obsessed with sex. Needless to say they thought extra days at the church would bring me back into the light. I still don't know where she got the 'sex' part from though. Guess it's the whole boyband image". I'm surprised he's opened up so quickly. But it's a good kind of surprised. Maybe he's not so freaked out by my episodes with my father. That makes me happy I think. 

"So you're a Mormon but you don't want to be? Interesting. But no, you'll never live that down. I won't let it happen," unnecessary heat rises to my cheeks, "But yeah, we had been wondering where you were recently. Thought you had been a little to freaked after the...incident," I finish. Then I realize I've been standing uncomfortably holding on to the railing for too long. I want to sit but Brendon is on the love seat we have and the couch and recliner are all the way on the other side of the room. If I sat over there it would be too far away, but if I sit next to him...

"Do you mind if I take a seat?" I ask, forcing my voice to remain casual. Brendon sets his guitar on the ground next to the seat and scoots over to make room. He motions with his hand and then sets on the back of the seat. I sit down, but remain close to the arm of the seat.

"The incident?" he asks once I've gotten comfortable. Then he closes his eyes and makes a face. "Oh, right. That. Um no, it didn't bother me. I kinda understand a little. Totally not in the way you do though, but I've had some incidents with my father in the past. But again, not like it's as bad as your situation. Not- that your situation is bad, it is but... Okay I'm gonna start over again. No, it didn't freak me out. I still want to be in the band, I might just miss some practices because I'll be at church like all the time," he finishes. I'm only half paying attention because his knee has been bouncing up and down rapidly since I sat down and it's sort of distracting. I don't mind his rambling, it's nice to know I'm not the only one who does it. 

"It's okay," I break off, staring at his knee. He's moved his hand to rest on it, and it joins in on the bouncing. "You didn't offend me or anything. It's just a situation, nothing much to it. Nothing to get offended over. But maybe we can try a different subject?"

"Are you trying to start small talk with me Ryan Ross?" Brendon asks with a wide grin. He laughs, and it's a beautiful sound, so I laugh along with him.

"Yes, Brendon 'The Mormon' Urie. I believe I am," comes my reply and I'm surprised at how less tense I feel.

"Well we could talk about anything. There is a lot to talk about in the world, seven billion people, and they all have something to say. What do you have to say?" Brendon replies, a small smile dancing on his face. He has a nice smile. Nice lips. But he still has a bowl cut.

"What do I have to say? Hmm," I break off pretending to think on something pretty hard, "Maybe we could start off with your hair. You look like the epitome of Mormon". He laughs and ruffles his hair.

"I don't think you have any room to talk Ross. I mean you look like the epitome of a girl".

"That wasn't really a good comeback Urie," I respond with a laugh. "It hides my face. That's why it's so long". And suddenly he's serious.

"I didn't know that, I wouldn't have-" I cut him off by laughing.

"It's really not that big of a deal. You're allowed to laugh, it’s okay, and it’s just a weird thing. I don't know." He licks his lips and that's when I realize I was staring at them. 

"I could cut it for you? I know that sounds really dumb, and what I'm about to say is really dumb," I raise an eyebrow at that, "but I wanted to be a cosmetologist. I always thought it was interesting," he finishes looking slightly embarrassed.

 "There's nothing wrong with that. Hey at least you know what you want to do, you know? I want to write. Write anything, books, poems, songs, magazine articles. I just like to write, so I'm going to major in creative writing. Not sure how long that'll last because I don't see anything creative in having to go to school. But uh to answer your question, I think I'll leave it like this for a while. Maybe when we start playing shows or something I'll cut it," I respond thoughtfully. "Thank you though. For the offer that is. I'll hold you to it though, I expect at least one". 

"Well thank you for not calling me some stupid name. My parents said it was a stupid thing to want. To fix hair, skin, and makeup and that sort of stuff. It just interested me, but my parents thought Law School sounded better. The joke will be on them when they see my grades though. And now we're getting all sob story, so let's talk about something else. What's your favorite color?" Brendon changes subjects quicker than I do. I can't blame him though, talking about yourself is hard.

"Aubergine" I respond.

"Favorite Movie?"

"Moulin Rouge" a laugh from him follows but it doesn't bother me. It's not really a common answer.

"Favorite time of day?" Brendon asks. It's an interesting question and I have to think about my answer. I scratch my head and bite on the inside of my cheek before responding with 'midnight'. Brendon gives me a thoughtful look and then nods. I'm not sure if it’s a nod of agreement or approval. 

He asks me a ton of questions. Some, I need to think about and others I can answer pretty quickly. Then it's my turn to question him in the same way. We do this until there's a knock on the wall and Spencer announces he's coming down. 

"Hey dudes," he says, a wave to both of us. If he thinks anything of our current seating position he doesn't say it. "You both been here all day? Well I mean I know you haven't been here all day Ryan cause you were at lunch. But were you here all day Brendon?" He continues as he takes a seat at his drum set. 

"Yeah, wasn't feeling good so I came here," comes Brendon's reply. I raise an eyebrow at him, but he simply holds a finger up to his lips telling me not to say anything. I wonder why it's a secret. 

"Man, that sucks," Spence says, but it sounds like he didn't really mean it. Not in a mean way, just an uninterested way. "You gonna be well enough for practice?".

"Yeah of course. Nothin like some music to make you feel better ya know?" Brendon answers with a laugh as he stands to grab one of my electric guitars. I follow suit and grab the other guitar he hands me. I smile, a small awkward smile and he returns it. His smile is too nice I decide. 

"Where's Brent?" both me and Brendon ask at the same time. 

"Do I look like his babysitter?" Spence questions. He's maybe able to maintain his face of anger for three seconds before he laughs. "I don't know. You know how he is," he finishes.

"Do we really though?" Brendon asks and I laugh. It feels nice to laugh, I haven't done it in a while. I wonder if that means something that Brendon has been the one to make that happen.

Spence just laughs along with us before asking, "Do we wanna cover anything specific today?". But before Brendon can say anything I blurt out "Camisado". Brendon gives me a questioning look, and Spencer outright says "no". But I nod at Brendon. I trust him to sing it. I'm sure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's lame to name the title after a song but I don't really care. Hope you guys enjoy!


	4. Rocky Road

My last day of high school is tomorrow and I can't find it within myself to go. Too many people crying-fake crying- over their 'friends', whom 'they'll miss so much'. Too many teachers pretending they gave a damn whether we graduated or not. And I certainly have better things to do. Like hanging out with Brendon 'The Mormon' Urie. In the past two months the whole band has hung out together multiple times. Usually it's us over at someone's house watching movies, or being teenage guys really. But lately anyone could find me and Brendon here in our practice space like we currently are.

I don't know what it is about Brendon, but everything has been easier lately. I've laughed more. I think that's what it is. Brendon told his parents he was going to be sleeping over at a friend’s house, and I told my dad I wouldn't be home tonight. I didn't tell him that I would only be back to gather the rest of my stuff this weekend. My dad only shrugged and fell back asleep on the couch. He's only hit me three times in these past months and Spencer has given up on getting angry since I'm moving into here temporarily before I start college. So there's a blow up mattress on the floor and I have a bag of clothes in the corner. The practice space is much more crowded but everyone said they didn't mind. 

Brendon is sitting in the reclining chair strumming away trying to perfect our demos we've been working on. I've been laying on the mattress staring at the ceiling for the past two hours trying to think of a chorus to a song I'm writing. But instead I've been listening to Brendon play. He's pretty good and it makes me glad he's going to be the front man so I still have a chance at the guitar. The strumming stops and I hear the guitar being laid on the ground. The mattress dips and my side floats up as Brendon's weight presses down on the other side. 

"Thinking about somethin'?" he asks quietly. He props his head up with his hand and turns so he's facing me.

"Trying to think of a chorus to this new song. Why'd you stop? It was nice," is my response. I don't turn to look at him. The ceiling is suddenly very interesting.

"Did Ryan Ross just compliment me?" Brendon mocks, bringing his other hand up to press against his chest. I reach over and push his chest a little and laugh. 

"I believe I just did compliment you. But you didn't answer, why did you stop?" I repeat.

"You just looked sad. You always get that look when you're thinking. So I figured that instead of sitting here moping around, we could go do something," Brendon suggests. Now it's my turn to face him. But I still don't prop myself up, simply turn my head. He's got a weird look on his face, but it's gone quickly and replaced with a maniacal grin.

"Is Brendon 'The Mormon' Urie suggesting we do something fun? Doesn't fun go against your code?" I ask, laughing and he kicks my leg a little.

"Yes I'm suggesting that. And yes, of course fun is breaking the code. We aren't even supposed to smile or else it's a straight trip to hell," Brendon replies and for a moment I almost think he's being serious. But then a grin breaks across his face again and I return the grin. I'm getting better at making it look less creepy.

"Alright, so what do you propose for us to do?"

"I thought maybe we could go get ice cream or something. I know this really good place near my school," comes Brendon's reply.

"Ice cream?" I ask, slightly disbelieving. I wasn't aware this was going to require money. That's one thing I'm lacking. He must read my face because he stands up, the mattress dipping to my weight again now that he's gone, and he reaches out his hand. 

"I'll pay, don't worry. I'm not gonna be a dick and force you to pay," he muses and I grab his hand. He pulls me up in a swift motion, maybe because I'm too skinny or maybe because he's stronger than he looks. But when I'm standing up fully I realize how close we are. The tips of our shoes are touching and my face is centimeters away from his and suddenly the room is very hot. We stand like this for a couple seconds, maybe minutes, maybe an hour, I'm not sure. I can't tell who steps back first but in the next moment we are both looking down at the ground avoiding eye contact. Until he looks up at me and just laughs. I find it hard to not laugh back because we can do that, we can laugh it off and pretend that never happened. He motions at the stair well and does a little half bow, "After you". And I laugh again as I walk up the stairs, him following quickly behind. 

I haven't laughed this much since this year started. And I only have Brendon Urie to thank. 

***

Turns out Brendon has a car. It's not the best of things, but it gets the job done. Or so he says. His parents payed for half of it and he paid for the rest. And apparently it’s supposed to be for driving back and forth between home and school, nothing else. Brendon says he doesn't care if he gets in trouble because he's taking his friend out for ice cream. 

So we make it to this little family owned ice cream parlor, and I say parlor because it's literally themed like one of those ones you see a barbershop quartet in. The walls are all red black and white stripes and everything in here screams vintage. I love it instantly. There's only one other person inside, an elderly man in a corner booth holding a cone in his hand. The vanilla ice cream drips down onto his hand and falls on the table. He doesn't seem to notice, he simply stares out the window. I want to tell him his cone is melting but usually people take one look at me and assume I'm there to cause trouble, so I refrain from opening my mouth this time.

Brendon nudges me towards the counter when I realize I've been staring at a lonely old man for too long.

"Ry, you gonna order or stare at that poor old man forever?" Brendon asks but I can’t reply because all I can think about is how he just called my Ry. I like the way he says Ry. I like it a lot. He raises his eyebrow again and when I don't respond he turns to the lady behind the counter, who I just noticed, and asks for two Rocky Road cones. He pays and the lady hands us the cones, and I still don't know what to do so I follow Brendon. Or should I call him Bren now or something? We sit down opposite each other in a booth near the front of the store. I notice the sun is setting and the streetlamps outside are just beginning to turn on. 

"How did you know Rocky Road was my favorite?" I mumble, I don't know why I'm mumbling.

"Whats that?" Brendon asks. He licks the cone but stares into my eyes. I don't know how I feel about that.

"I said, how did you know Rocky Road was my favorite?" I clarify, raising my voice higher than when I first made the statement.

"That's my favorite," is Brendon's reply. He laughs, "Well you have great taste in ice cream flavors".  I don't know how to respond. I've lost all train of thought since he started licking his ice cream. "You're dripping".

"My what?" I ask, confused. I should pay better attention to his words and not his mouth. 

"You're cone. It's melting, and you're spilling it on the table," Brendon replies laughing. He grabs a napkin from the little napkin holder and hands it to me. I quickly clean the melted chocolate off the table and lick my fingers to clean them off. Before I do anything else stupid I actually start eating my ice cream. At least with that in my mouth I'll have an excuse to not talk and just watch him. 

We eat in relative silence and then once we're finished I still am at a loss for words. And here I am wanting to be a writer- that should be interesting. 

"Everything good Ry?" Brendon asks. And there it is again. Ry. I try to ignore the feelings it brings. 

"Yeah I uh... Yeah everything's good. How um, did you find this place?" I ask. I hope he doesn't catch on to my ability to not form correct sentences. 

"I uh, brought a girl on a date here once. She was the first date I'd ever had. So I looked up all these places to bring a date to if you're trying to impress them and this place was recommended because of the old theme," Brendon answers. I don't know how I feel about the fact that he brought a girl on a date here. But I do know how I feel about the fact that he said this was the place to go to if you're trying to impress someone. I smile. This time I don't think it looks bad, in fact I might even look genuinely happy. My hair falls in front of my eyes and I brush it back, I like Brendon seeing my face.

"Well did she like it enough for a second date?" I ask, trying to keep the conversation going because I still don't think I can think of anything else to talk about.

"Sadly no. It was more of a pity date because I wasn't the coolest kid, but she couldn't say no apparently. I had asked her in music class, and later she told me the only reason she said yes was because she didn't want to look mean in front of the whole class," he states, laughing slightly to himself. He does that a lot. Laughing quietly like everything is an inside joke he's got running with himself.

"I would've gone on a second date with you," I blurt out. My hand reaches up and slaps over my mouth. I did not. Just. Say. That. "Um please ignore that".

"I wasn't aware we had gone on a first one Ross," Brendon laughs. He doesn't mock me and I have never been more thankful for that in my entire life. My face is on fire and I really wish my brain and my mouth were actually connected sometimes. "But no seriously Ry, it's alright. This is a bro date. Just two dudes, getting some ice cream together. No big deal". He laughs again. Always laughing that one. And I decide to laugh along, because maybe if I don't speak I won't admit the idiotic things that come to mind.

"Yeah, of course. For sure. Just two guys hangin out. Eating Ice cream".

"Exactly".

"Exactly". Brendon can't stop laughing, and okay I guess it does help ease the tension because when he laughs I laugh. I don't like how that works, but it just does. He has a beautiful laugh, and I don't think I'll get tired of hearing it any time soon.

We make more small talk after that, and then the lady behind the counter tells us to leave because, well they closed an hour ago but she didn't want to intrude. So Brendon drives us back to our practice space/ my temporary house.

***

"Thank you for making me get up and do something," I tell Brendon. He's lying next to me on the air mattress, I can't see him because it's dark, but I know he's there because I can hear his breathing.

"It was no problem. Our official man, dude ice cream date was nice. Plus we both like Rocky Road, which is an excellent choice if I might add. You're a pretty cool person Ry," he murmurs. 

"So that's what the kids are doing these days? Man dates?" I ask him, laughing a little. I feel his returning laugh through the mattress. 

"Yeah, that's exactly what it was," he replies again, but this time his voice is softer and I think he may be close to falling asleep. 

"Well for the record you're a pretty cool person to Bren" I whisper back. And there it is. I just called him Bren. I wonder if he'll even notice. But he won’t because when I push myself up to a half sitting position, I notice he's fast asleep. I wish I could sleep that easily. I wish I could understand what he meant by 'that's exactly what it was'. 


	5. On A Whim

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We all know their early story. Sending their demos to Pete off of livejournal 'on a whim' and then they get signed. And well there's a whole lot of other stuff. This chapter is gonna be pretty long I think so just bear with it.

So much has happened in such a short amount of time. I started college and I'm halfway through the first semester at The University of Nevada. It's a bit more challenging than I was expecting and I actually have to try when it comes to classes. Not that I wasn't expecting this, it's like I said, a lot has happened lately. Brendon is in his senior year now, and Spencer and Brent finished up their schooling early online this summer. The band as a whole didn't really get to do much together over the summer. Brent was with his family on some vacation in Colorado. Spence and I saw each other almost every day though, since I'm still kind of living in the band's practice space. Brendon was also pretty busy this summer with his family. Some kind of Mormon worship camp that he basically spent the whole summer at. At first he would call the band and we would talk sometimes, but near the end of summer the calls became less frequent. 

I'm strumming the chords to Time to Dance, formerly known as Boys Will Be Boys, when I hear my phone ringing. I see its Brendon, so I pick it up relatively quickly. 

"Hey Bren, what's up?" 

"Umm I have some bad news," he mumbles his reply.

"What kind of bad news?"

"The kind where I have to tell you Spencer’s grandma just sold the house and we have to clear everything out by the end of the week". I'm silent for a minute while I process his words. This has been my home for a while now, and I can never afford the housing on campus, my scholarship doesn't cover it. I can't move in with Spencer because that drive is too far away from the University. Brent is not an option. I don’t think I know Brendon well enough to move in with him and his family. They probably wouldn’t approve of me anyways. And I'm definitely not trying to move back in with my father. He knows I'm going to college now, and he says he's happy for me. That's the only thing remotely complimenting he's said to me since my mother left. I was three when that happened. So no, home is not an option. "Okay so I get that you're freaking out but what if we shared an apartment? I've been looking at some because I know there had been offers on the house and I didn't want to freak you out. But there's these really nice apartment complexes right near the University and with the both of us paying it should be relatively on the cheaper side". I'm still at a loss for words. I don't have a job, I can't pay for anything. 

"Brendon, you know the only reason I'm going to college is because of my scholarship. I don't actually have any money to pay for it. I can't pay for the apartment until I get a job" comes my reply. My voice is quiet and shaky and I hate it. Brendon's side of the line goes quiet for a minute and I start to worry. “And why would we share one when you’re supposed to still be living at home?”

"Well I still have more news to tell you. Some good and some bad-" 

"Brendon what did you do?" I ask, my voice has taken on a harsh edge. Completely abandoning the previous statement's tone.

"I might have already gotten it for us, and you don't have to pay until January of next year, so '05..." he trails off.

"Brendon Boyd Urie I cannot believe you just did that. Do you know how expensive an apartment is?" I pause, "Don't answer that question".

"I know you're probably mad-"

"You got that right-"

"But I promise, promise, promise it's not that big of a deal. It's not that expensive and you'll get to pay. Trust me Ross I wasn't about to pay for the whole thing forever," Brendon concludes. And I want to be furious with him. I want to be so angry but he's one of those people you can't stay mad at. I groan into my other hand after I set the guitar down.

"And don’t change the subject. You still have to answer my question,” I demand. If he’s gone and done something stupid, I might kill him.

“I may have been kicked out by my family,” he trails off near the end of the sentence. I’ve never heard his voice sound like this.

“Oh…” I’m at a loss for words. “I’m… I’m really sorry man,” my voice is quiet and awkward, as usual.

“It’s not really a big deal, I’ll still be going to school and stuff. They just told me they didn’t want me in the house if all I cared about was the music rather than my grades. When I told them that I only cared about the music, they told me they only cared about my other siblings,” he states like it’s not a big deal. Like this isn’t probably one of the most difficult things that can happen to someone our age.

“Listen Brendon if the apartment is too much-”

“Ryan, stop. I have some money saved up, which should get us through a decent time. Then you can start paying. Trust me, it’s okay,” he cuts me off his voice is stern, showing no room for me to try and convince him otherwise.

“Okay. Alright, well, when do we move in?” I conclude.

“That’s the other good-ish news. We move in tomorrow,” I can hear his smile on the other side of the line.

“Brendon Urie, what am I going to do with you?” My voice is exasperated but not in an angry way.

“You’ll never find out the answer to that question Ry,” and with that he hangs up the phone.

***

So now Brendon and I are living in this one bedroom apartment, the reason for its cheapness, and we have band practice in the living room. Tonight is the first practice we've had with everyone here since resuming the school year. Brent got here a little late, but it wasn’t really a problem. We’re not in a hurry to do anything really.

This practice goes really well, the music is shaping up to be how I thought it should sound. I still can't get over how well Brendon sings my songs. The personal songs that I had written about myself, other people, and sometimes made up things. I never would've imagined someone could take my words to a whole new meaning with just their voice. I can't trust myself to sing them. I've only known Brendon for about a year now, and yet I have put my complete and utter trust into Brendon singing. I don't know what that means, but I know it means something. Throughout the five songs, I've written two new ones since I finished high school, I find myself staring at Brendon. He still has a bowl cut, but then again my hair is still shoulder length. Spencer and Brent's hair is shoulder length, so I'm not sure why I care so much. He catches me staring at him multiple times, but he just gives a smile in return. And in return of that I usually end up blushing furiously, which angers me slightly because I should not be blushing because of Brendon 'The Mormon' Urie. Or do I just call him Bren still? 

We end on the newest song, "I Write Sins Not Tragedies" and of course Brendon makes it sound great. Of course he does. We haven't fully developed the 'sound' of the songs yet, but hopefully now that we live together we can work on that. Brent tells everyone he has to leave and we all say our goodbyes, and for once I don't really have any problems with Brent. We've all kind of grown closer over the past couple of months. It's been nice. I don't have to pretend around them. They all hear my songs, and get a sense of the meaning behind the words. But I'm the only one who knows the reasons, I'm glad for that, I don't know how anyone would want to know those reasons. 

Spencer announces he's going to be leaving early because he's got the morning shift at the diner he works at. He leaves our living room/ practice space with a wave and a slight yawn. I don’t hear the door shut, but I hear his car drive away so I know he’s gone. His yawning makes me yawn, but I'm not very tired. I don't have class tomorrow so I can stay up, maybe Brendon would want to stay up with me? When Brent left Brendon had gone into our tiny kitchen and he hasn't returned. I get off the chair and make my way to the kitchen when I hear...sniffling? I round the corner and Brendon is leaning over the sink, his arms clenching the sides of the counter. His head is dipped between his shoulders and his arms are tense.

"Bren?" I call out quietly and reach my arm out, placing it on his shoulder. Bad idea. Very bad idea. His skin heats through the shirt and I don't remember what I was going to say. I swallow, but it takes a minute before I can find my voice. "Are you... Is everything okay?" I whisper. My hand is still on his shoulder and he hasn't shrugged it off. I wonder if it means anything, but it probably doesn't. But the moment I think that he turns to face me and my hand falls away, but I ignore the feeling of defeat when I see Brendon's face. His eyes are red again and there's tear streaks staining his cheeks. I have an urge to brush them off his face, but I don't because...well I just cant. 

"My father called me earlier today just to yell at me. He’s been so angry that I’ve left and apparently today he was more angry than normal. He said he wanted to disown me. Ryan I don’t even know what that means. I feel like this was all a mistake, I just-” he doesn't finish. And I don't know if it's appropriate right now but I lean forward and hug him. I've never really been good at giving hugs. This is only the third hug I've had in my life. At first he freezes, but then his arms wrap around me and he buries his head into the crook of my shoulder and neck. 

"Hey, hey, shhh. It’ll be alright. He’s probably just scared. I know that sounds weird, but you’re his kid. He’s handling your leaving the wrong way. That’s all. You’re okay,” I whisper. He pulls away from the hug, and I notice, for the first time, and I'm surprised I'm just now noticing, that Brendon has freckles. I shouldn't be thinking about how nice they make his face look, especially when he's just been yelled at pretty severely.

“Yeah I know I’m just. Ryan,” he breaks off and looks me in the eyes. Not one of those weird moments like before a kiss, but just a regular look into the eyes kind of look. But it’s also one of those looks where the other person really wants you to look at them and understand the full meaning of what they’re about to say. “Thank you for doing this with me. For sharing this apartment with me and letting me be in the band, and just everything. Thank you for all of that”.

I’m not sure how to answer that, because it’s probably one of the nicest things ever said to me. And I’ve never really been thanked for just being there. So instead I just smile back and tell him I’m heading off to bed. Before I go he tries to ruffle my hair, but I duck away and knock his shoulder lightly. He laughs and heads to the fridge as I leave the room with the ghost of a smile on my lips. 

***

It's officially 2005 and nothing feels different. Except for the fact that well I’ve had to start paying my share of the apartment. It isn't a problem though because Brendon is working a Tropical Smoothie in town and I'm working at an animal shelter. I'm only supposed to be a volunteer but they pay me under the table sometimes because they all really like me. They say I have a way with animals. And I see it. The dogs and cats don't really expect anything from you except food, water, and a bit of love. People are much more complicated than that. I suppose another difference is that Brendon and I no longer share a bed. We only had the money to afford one lent from one of Brendon’s school friends at first. But now we both have twin sized mattresses, store bought this time.  

One other slight change is the fact that Spencer and Brent are basically here every day, it’s almost like they live here. We fight a lot, as most guys stuck in a cramped space would, but we also have gotten a lot of musical work done.

Brendon was able to get a laptop secondhand from one of his new work friends, and we got three demos recorded. We decide to post them to my LiveJournal account because I had a decent amount of people looking at mine. We posted 'Camisado' despite my insistent no's, 'Nails For Breakfast, Tacks for snacks' a newer song, but one of our favorites, and 'Time to Dance'-which was originally titled ‘Boys Will Be Boys’. So far there have been mixed opinions on the sound of it. We're different from the other bands in our area because we don't do the whole 'screamo' scene. And maybe that's their reason, but I can't tell people what they can and can't like. 

I'm scrolling through the comments on our songs and reading a few that seem like compliments. One catches my eye and I smile widely despite myself. The comment reads, "who's that singing? I love their voice". Brendon, who is currently laying on the ground in front of me looks up and catches me smiling. 

"Watching something inappropriate on there Ross?" he asks with a laugh. I laugh along with him but don't answer. Instead I type up the reply, "that's our lead singer, Brendon. I'll tell him you liked his voice, he'll love that" and post it. Either Brendon forgets I didn't answer or didn't care, but he starts humming a song. I freeze. 

"What song is that you're singing Bren?" 

"The Pros and Cons of Breathing, why?"

"Pete!" I exclaim, and Brendon just gives me a weird look. "Pete Wentz, bassist of Fall Out Boy-"

"Yes, I know who Pete Wentz is. I'm not a Mormon anymore, I know things Ry," Brendon interrupts. 

"He's got a LiveJournal. He's got his own label. Brendon," I clarify, trying to hide my growing excitement. 

"You think he'll even reply?" Brendon asks sitting up now to face me. 

"No but what's the worst that could happen? We send the demos and he ignores them? I think it's worth the try at least," I state. Brendon nods and moves over to sit next to me on the bed. He pulls the laptop into his own lap and asks for Pete's name on here. He attaches the demos and sends them immediately. He looks over at me and grins, 

"Well, it's done now. So we wait". He hands the laptop over to me and checks the time on his wrist. "I gotta go, my shift starts soon, but you'll let me know if anything happens right?"

"No, you'll be in the dark forever," he laughs at that and turns to leave the bedroom. "A comment on one of our demos," I manage to say before he leaves.

"A what?"

"Earlier, what I was smiling at. Someone said they loved your voice," comes my response. What I want to say is 'I love your voice. I think you have the best voice, and I want to know what it sounds like when you're doing things besides singing and talking'. But that would be too much, and I certainly can't express my true feelings, because what kind of sane person does that?

"Oh, what did you tell them?"

"That you would love to hear that," my face grows considerably hotter and I duck my head. 

"Well you're not wrong," he responds with a grin before knocking on the door frame with his knuckles. "You're not wrong Ross," he repeats quieter and more to himself this time as he walks out. 

I look at the comments, some positive, but most of them negative and sigh. So I make a new entry, no subject. And I type, "whisper babe..i'm as good as it gets in this town.whisper babe..i'm a fever you can't sweat out.these are my deepest thoughts and secrets under a microscope or under a spotlight.forgive me if i'm not quite ready to give them to you.it's just such a different feeling..when i see you smiling and singing back to me,i'm still playing different pictures in my head that aren't so pleasant.i'm doing my best now to live in the song and not just the meaning…". I really should not express my feelings to Brendon, but posting them in vague terms and not wholly focusing on him could work. At least writing them down keeps me from wanting to say them out loud. 

Later that night when Brendon gets back from his shift, he smells like strawberries and bananas, he lays down on the bed next to me rather than his own this time.  

"Anything?" he asks, propping his head up on his hands. I try not to stare, or think of my most recent post to hard. I hope he can't read minds. 

"Nothing yet. I mean, what we're we expecting?" I reply solemnly. Brendon gently punches my arm and laughs,

"Don't get so down in the dumps. It's only been a couple hours, no worries Ry. Remember, what's the worst that can happen?" I punch his arm back and reply with a 'yeah', but my heart isn't really into it. "Okay, well if you're gonna mope, I'm gonna go try to hit that note in Camisado. So if you hear anyone banging on the walls to shut up, it's my fault".

"Good luck with that," I respond. Again I try not to focus on how he smells, or that he's wearing his glasses again. He looks good with glasses, and nobody looks good in glasses. He huffs but walks out of the bedroom anyways. I yell after him, "When Spence gets here for practice, why don't you mention it to him and see what he says". A resounding grunt is his response. I guess that's response enough. 

About fifteen minutes later right when I'm about to log off and go to bed I get a message. My mind blanks. It's from Pete. Pete Wentz actually responded to me. My mind is buzzing and I temporarily forget I'm supposed to let Brendon know. I open the message to see, my hands shaking as I do. 

"Pete Wentz (7:48:06 PM): You guys look good. The chicks gonna be swooning?"

We look good. Pete Wentz thinks we look good. We sound good. I type back quickly,

"once we get a keyboard player who can do all of the sampling we want to do it will be alot better too. its like we know how we want to sound, but just finding the right way to do it i guess is what we are working on."

"hahaha"

"i dont know man, we look alright i guess"

"we look young". I start to think maybe I sound as nervous as I am. He responds with,

“Pete Wentz (7:50:10 PM): Youngs not abd at all"

" Pete Wentz (7:50:55 PM): How does the singiner look". I freeze. Do I answer honestly? Yes. No. No I shouldn’t. Or I could, but I could make it ambiguous, like it could be taken as a joke. I type,

"dead sexy."

"he's no pete wentz. but still". And I wait, because maybe I have freaked him out now. Who tells another man that they think a guy is 'dead sexy'? Even as a joke? But he wastes no time in replying.

"Pete Wentz (7:54:32 PM): Hahaha"

"Pete Wentz (7:54:58 PM): Goddamn as long as he looks cool.singing" Pete has no problem with me thinking this of Brendon. I mean he totally could’ve taken it as a joke, but he also might not have. I really don't know how to feel now.

We message back and forth for about an hour and he says he'll fly out here in two days to hear us. Two days. Pete Wentz is going to fly out here to Vegas to hear us and potentially sign us. When Pete has to go I leap off the bed and run into the living room. At the same time Spencer walks in the door, with Brent and Brendon right behind him. All three of them stare at me with eyebrows raised. I'm not usually one to be running or jumping anywhere, that's Brendon. 

"Guys, I have some really really really good news" I announce. Brendon's bottom jaw drops open and he says,

"No he didn't. Ryan. No, you're lying".

"Who?" Spencer and Brent both ask at the same time. 

"Pete Wentz!" Brendon and I both reply at the same time. This time I can't contain my joy and I leap towards Brendon, it's definitely because he's closest to me, no other reason. This time when I hug him, he hugs back, and both of us laugh. Spence stares at me confused as ever and Brent mirrors his expression.

"Pete Wentz listed to our demos Brendon and I sent him, and he's flying down in two days to listen to us. We might get signed to his label," I explain and Spence rushes over to hug me. He lifts me off my feet and spins me around, and I can't help but to grin wildly. We might just get the future we've all dreamed of. 

***

Two days later Pete is here. The Pete Wentz. A literal god when it comes to music and writing it. And I can't believe he likes the words I wrote. All of us can't help but to stare, but he just laughs and tells us he's used to it, he's performed on stage, so yeah, used to the whole staring. 

"Alright, I thought the demos were really good. But do you have other songs?" Pete asks, taking a seat on the only chair we have in the living room. It takes a moment for me to register his words and I blink before thinking about my answer. Apparently it's pretty hard.

"Um, we're in the process of finishing two songs right now. I Write Sins, Not Tragedies and another called Build God, Then We'll Talk," my voice doesn't shake despite how my body does slightly. 

"Mind playin' 'em for me? I just want to get a greater feel for your guys' sound," replies Pete. So I nod to the band and we begin. Brendon sings Sins perfectly, I mess up once but my mind is currently still wandering. I haven't written the remaining verse to Build God, so we end it where I've finished off. Pete compliments us again. Pete Wentz. Then he tells us he'll sign us and I almost choke on air. 

"Wait, what?" I ask, my voice choked and disbelieving.

"I want to sign you guys. I like how your music is so much different than everyone else's around here and out these days. Plus, when you get big I want it to be done from my label," he replies with a laugh. Everyone laughs too much here. Without waiting for the rest of the band I nod eagerly. Brendon, Spencer and Brent all join in with various nodding and yeses. Pete hands us papers, contracts and other information, which we all sign without reading through. He talks to us for a little while, and he says something in Brendon's ear, which earns a laugh, though I'm the only one who notices. I think we all might be in shock that Pete is actually real and here in our shitty apartment and signing us. I hope this isn't a dream, because it would undoubtedly be the worst nightmare I've ever had, and not many of mine were very appealing. "Listen I know this is all happening quickly, and I really wish I could stay here and talk with you guys, help you out a little, but I have to go back to headquarters in NYC and set all this stuff up. But the best advice I can give you guys is to continue your style and try to get as many songs done as soon as possible, it'll help with the contact". And with that he gives us all one armed hugs and quickly leaves, promising to see us again soon. 

Spencer tells me he's going to call his mom, so he heads outside to tell her the news. Brent, who doesn't have a phone, tells me he's going to go home and tell his parents about it. He heads out all smiles and now it's just me and Brendon left in the living room. He steps forward grinning and pulls me into another hug, and I decide I really enjoy his hugs. When he whispers in my ear I don't think I've heard him correctly and I pull back, my face burning.

"Wh-What?" I stammer out.

"Pete told me what you told him. About me. 'Dead sexy' Ross?" Brendon answers, laughing. He's still very close to me, and I can see his freckles again. I really like his freckles. 

"Uh, umm, oh?" 

"Should've told me sooner Ross" he replies, a sly grin forming on his face.

"Why's that?" I challenge, hoping now that I can fake confidence, because well, my secrets out, and there's not much I can say. 

"So we could've done this sooner".

"Done wha-", my reply cut off my Brendon's mouth on mine. My eyes snap shut and I focus on appropriate thoughts and breathing correctly. It's not what I expected, it's better. His lips are soft, just as soft as I knew they would be, I mean I spent half the time when we were together staring at them. They're warm on mine and he tilts his head to the side, but doesn't attempt to push further. My hands reach up from where they had been dangling, to cup both sides of his head and snake through his hair. His body presses close to mine, and I mean we've been this close when sleeping, but this is different. This is very different. And it's over all too quickly. Brendon pulls back, a strange look on his face.

“I think that might’ve been the wrong moment for that. It was just one of those moments,” he trails off and I agree with him. I didn’t know I was really into him like that. I’ve thought about kissing him, and maybe other things, but that’s cause we’ve been alone in this apartment together for a while, and I chalk it up to a lack of anyone else being around.

But then again maybe I do actually think of him in that way.

We’re both still standing in front of each other, staring with mirroring disbelieving expressions.

“Okay yeah I said you we’re dead sexy, but it was totally a joke. Ya know?” My voice sounds lame, not the reply, just my actual voice sounds stupid. Like some insolent middle schooler trying to avoid telling their crush that they’re their crush.

“And I kissed you because uh, well uh, I just did?” Brendon’s reply does sound kinda stupid. “I’m gonna go to bed now”. And with that he’s headed off to the bedroom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's the end of Pre-Fever Era. This is only 5 chapters because it's kind of like a prologue if you will. The rest of the Eras will have around 8-10 chapters hopefully. Hope you guys enjoyed!


	6. The Beginning of an Era (Kind of)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Okay there was supposed to be more stuff about the recording and stuff happening, but I kinda wanted this to be a more Ryden-ish chapter? I don't really know, I kind of just let it flow. There's some drunk panic! boys so, enjoy that I guess. Mostly just kind of stuff happening around the apartment.  
> Also im v bad at writing any kind of fluff or stuff like that, so just bear with me. It'll get better as I write more of it lmao.  
> Also also also, if you've seen the pic of Ryan with the 'sex hair', that's whats going on in the later scenes

I don't quite know how to act around Brendon anymore. I mean I never knew how to act around him, but now that we kissed I really have no clue. He wanted to do it, and despite my mind telling me that I didn’t want to kiss him, I did. I think I still do, but I’m also not too sure of it. _Do I kiss him more? Do I drop it?_ I can't ask him this without getting nervous and stumbling on my words. I don't know why I'm nervous, but Brendon is the only person who has that effect on me. I wish he didn't, it makes me uncomfortable. 

Yet all I can think about is him. And I shouldn't, because he's just a friend. We're two guys. That would be weird. I mean I know he's good looking. But guys can think other guys are good looking without being attracted to him. Right? Of course they can, because that's how I feel. I like girls, I've only ever been with a girl. I'm with one right now. And of course I like her. I can't like guys, I haven't been with one. Yet....I've kissed one. But it doesn't matter, because a kiss is just a kiss. Brendon just happened to be there, and I just happened to be there, and we just happened to be very excited about our future careers. And now I'm dating Jac, so it doesn't matter and Brendon is dating Audrey, which of course I'm not jealous of at all. So none of this matters and I shouldn't even be thinking of Brendon "The Mormon" Urie. 

"Ryan, really? This is your favorite movie, one that we don't even like, and you're zoning out?" Spencer's voice breaks my train of thought. He's right. I'm laying here with all of the band, and I'm thinking about kissing one of them.  _Great job Ross, you're really doing great._

"I er, uh, I was thinking about someone- _thing. Something._ Not someone." My face is burning and I cover it with my hands, pulling on my face like I'm tired. Totally tired, not embarrassed. When I remove my hands I look over towards the band.

We're all laying on my bed with Brendon's laptop on the nightstand we put near the edge in between my bed and this one. And apparently we're watching Moulin Rouge, which Spencer was right, it's my favorite movie. It's because of this that I can recognize how long we've apparently been watching it based on which scene it is. The movie has been playing for an hour and I haven't watched a single second of it. The rest of the guys raise an eyebrow at me and Brendon gives me this...look. Which I choose to ignore, because that's what I've decided to do. It was actually just this second that I decided ignoring what happened between me and Brendon will work the best because talking is not an option. "What? Let's get on with the movie. I get enough weird looks from you guys anyways. And I'm tired, let a man live". 

"Tired. Okay Ry," Brendon chimes in and I glare at him, which makes him laugh. When I reach over and punch him in the arm he laughs even harder. This is the complete opposite effect I want to have on him. I sigh and lean my head back against the wall, close my eyes and wait for a moment. I feel a light poke on my arm and my eyes snap open to reveal everyone staring at me and Brendon's hand slowly receding back to lay on his stomach.

"What?" I snap and Brendon looks a bit taken aback. Good.  _Good_. I think. In fact Spencer and Brent look a bit surprised as well.

"Jesus, what's up your ass Ross?" Brent asks. He reaches forward to pause the movie and I smack his hand out of the way.

"Nothing  _Brent_. And don't even think about stopping the movie. I was watching it," comes my reply. A bit more defensive than I wanted it to be, but there's no taking it back now.

"Ryan, you literally were not-" Brent attempts to speak, but I interrupt,

"Let's watch the damn movie".

We watch the damn movie. I stare at the screen the whole time, and only towards the end do I realize my mind has been a blank the whole time. That and every one of us sat here in complete silence. Even Brendon, which is extremely hard for him to do. At least I wasn't thinking about him while I was zoning out. But I was thinking about something else. Kind of. 

"What if for this album we kind of tied in this movie with it? Most of the songs are about love and affairs and infidelity, so why not?" I ask, hoping I make sense to the rest of the band. I never make sense to the band. Apparently everything I say has some sort of 'double meaning' or it's 'pretentious', but I don't see it. Well maybe I do, but I don't like to hang on the idea for very long.

"You mean like for like on stage? Or in videos and stuff like that? Wait, do we have to have a theme?" Spencer asks. He doesn't seem to say no outright, but he doesn't seem too keen on the idea or understand what I'm saying. 

"Yeah, I guess that's what I mean. On stage we could have the windmill on stage, and all the bright lights and the colors, and dancers. Wouldn't that be great? It would make us stand out. Wasn't that what we were trying to accomplish?" comes my reply. I look to Brent and Brendon for support. Brent just stares blankly, apparently not thinking too hard on the subject. Brendon actually seems to be deep in thought. His head nods a little forward, and his jaw quirks to the side. His nodding becomes surer and he looks up at me a slight grin on his face. 

"Dancers you say? And we can have them dressed like in this movie? Cause if that's the case, I'm in," Brendon breaks off and I raise an eyebrow, "And it totally fits the music to Ry. No need to get butt hurt again". He laughs, and I try to ignore how nice it sounds and how reassuring his words are. I break into a grin, to keep up the act of not acting differently-that's the reason. The only reason. 

"Spence? Brent? Any thoughts?" I question, turning to face each of them as I say their names. My hair falls in my eyes as I lean forward off the wall and I freeze because Brendon's hand lifts from his stomach and it's-not making its way towards me, it's moving to scratch the back of his neck. Not my hair. Why would he do that? Why am I thinking about him  _again_? I should be thinking of Jac, because I like her, not Brendon. Nope. And he should be thinking of Audrey, which I'm sure he is. I think. I should stop thinking. 

"You know what? Now that I think about it that would be pretty awesome. It would be like our own Moulin Rouge, and we would definitely be different. It would get our name out there to. And putting on a show sounds fun to me, we can have our own announcer and everything." Spence actually seems excited, and now I can grin without having to pretend I'm happy. 

"Actually Ryan that would be pretty cool. Even I'll admit that," comes Brent's reply. I grin wider, even though I don't like Brent very much, at least he approves of the idea. 

"So do you think we should bring it up to Pete? He'll probably be the one who can get us all the stuff, I think. That's how it works right?" I ask to no one in particular. Brendon seems to think when I'm asking a question, it's always directed towards him.  

"He gave us his phone number right?" he asks.  _Ignore him Ryan. Ignore him._

"Yeah,"  _Dammit._ "I'll call him later tonight and ask. I'm sure it'll be cool with him. So it's settled? We're doing it? Panic! At the Disco"-a name we just recently thought of and agreed to-"goes Moulin Rouge." I add to my statement and look around. Everyone nods in eager agreement, faces smiling. 

We decide to celebrate by drinking. None of us are twenty one, but we have sources, so we manage to obtain massive amounts of alcohol. It's not even a huge reason to celebrate, but it's important to us. We now know what to call ourselves and how we're going to be different. Of course it's exciting, not many bands get this far.  We also decide that Spencer and Brent will stay the night because they can’t drive home drunk.

Two hours later Brent has passed out on our newly acquired couch in the living room and Spencer and Brendon are sitting together on the love seat laughing about something. I'm sitting in the recliner. My mind is fuzzy and everything seems hilarious. I haven't stopped grinning since we started drinking and I think it hurts my face to smile this much, but thinking about it makes me laugh. Brendon and Spence both look over, interrupting their laughing, and laugh at me. I laugh harder and it turns into a giggle fest and I fall out of the chair. I'm still laughing and for once I don't try to stop it. Then somehow Spencer and Brendon both end up on the floor in front of me and we're all laughing again and there's so much joy flowing between all of us. I think I like alcohol, it makes me, well less of an ass. 

"I'm not fun without this huh?" I ask, my mind feels bubbly now, and I'm not really sure why that came out. 

"Of course you're fun Ryan. Remember that time we accidentally set a power box on fire? You're funny. I know that Ryan. I know that." Spence smiles at me and laughs. "This just makes you say all those things in your complicated little brain".

"Hey, my brain is far from little," I defend. My hand raises to cover my heart in mock hurt, but I bring it to my chest too quickly and knock myself over. I fall backwards and laugh until Brendon and Spencer chime in louder than me. 

"Drunk Ryan is the funniest Ryan". I think that was Brendon, it sounded like him. He hasn't really said much, save for laughing. I sit back up, maybe a bit too quickly, actually way too quickly. The world tilts and I fall forward. I'm falling everywhere. I land face first on the carpet directly in front of Spencer and he pushes my shoulders so I roll over. When I look up Spence and Brendon are staring down at me, and I think they're trying to hold in laughter. I reach up both up my hands and cover their mouths. Brendon licks one of my hands and I rub it all over his face.  _That'll show him not to lick my hand._ He grabs a hold of my wrist and pulls my hand away from his face laughing. Spencer does the same and then they start slapping my hands together. Another giggle fest ensues. Everything is funny and I'm not sure I can stop laughing. But eventually we do because now it's silent and Spencer and Brendon are talking about something quietly while I poke both of their knees.

I peer over at the clock hanging on the wall and notice it's almost four in the morning. Brendon has to open up at the smoothie shop in four hours and I have to leave for the animal shelter in three.

"Shit," I mumble out and attempt to push myself off the ground. Using both Spencer and Brendon's shoulders for support I'm able to bring myself to a reasonably stable standing position. They look up at me, and I think they look confused, I can't tell because the world is spinning. My foot stumbles backwards and I press my hands harder into their shoulders but it's an awkward position because I'm standing and they're still sitting. "Work. Morning. Sleep". That's all I manage to get out before I think I'm going to throw up. I pull my hand from Spencer's shoulder and cover my mouth. They both immediately jump up and grab my elbows, pulling me into the bathroom. The moment my knees hit the ground I feel it coming. My hair falls forward into my face and I can't be bothered with it at the moment. Both Spencer and Brendon seem more sober than me and I'm glad for that, it's really nice that my friends know how to handle alcohol. I can't obviously. I'm emptying whatever I did have straight into the toilet. 

There wasn't a lot in my stomach, which I'm not sure if it's a good thing or a bad, I decide to go with good because this ordeal would've lasted a lot longer than an hour. My being sick in front of Brendon caused him to get sick and Spencer went to bed before Brendon's ordeal happened, so thankfully Spencer was unaffected.

Currently I lay in my bed, at five in the morning, waiting for Brendon to get out of the bathroom so the room is dark. It can't be dark when he's got the bathroom light on. For some reason my mind decides this is hilarious and I begin to laugh, very loudly. A pillow arcs through the air and knocks me in the face and Spencer mutters a quick "shut the fuck up Ryan". I try to muffle my laughter by pulling the covers over my mouth. It works, but not very well judging by Spencer's annoyed groan. He’s sleeping in Brendon’s bed, and Brendon and I are supposed to share mine. Apparently Brent is going to be taking the couch tonight.

The bathroom door opens and suddenly I can't laugh. Brendon's shirtless form is silhouetted against the yellowish light of the bathroom. His hand reaches up to scratch his hair, which is still a bowl cut, I wish it wasn't.  _Why do I wish it wasn't? Oh yeah, I bet cause it would feel really nice. I wonder what would happen if...Don't go there_  Ryan. His other hand searches along the wall for the light switch and suddenly the darkness comes crashing down on the room. Brendon yawns, laughs to himself, and makes his way over to my bed. I seem to have forgotten the sleeping arrangements of tonight, even though they were discussed only about an hour ago.

"Brendon, I, uh?" I whisper in slight confusion.

"Shhh," he mumbles, his hand searching in the darkness. It comes to rest on my face and his finger finds my lips, he presses it against them to silence me. I feel his other hand push me closer to the wall and while, I'm confused, I'm too tired to push back. He crawls underneath the covers and my heart pounds restlessly against my ribs. We've slept together so many times, so this should be no different. "You're warm. My bed. It's cold and occupied". Brendon's body presses against mine and I freeze. I'm completely sober now. I can see my chest rise and fall rapidly and I want so badly to stop it, but my breathing is erratic. It's uncontrollable. I wish sleep were an option, but when he pulls this shit I find that sleep is never an option.  _So much for ignoring him. Way to go Ryan, can't even follow your own rules for a damn day._

***

Turns out sleep was an option. Too much sleep in this case. Its noon and I'm still in my bed. Spencer is nowhere to be found.  _Shit that's right, he was going to visit his family for the weekend. He must have left right after we went to_   _sleep_.So it's just me Brent and Brendon. And Brendon is still curled up against my side.  _Shit, shit, shit, fuck._ I've completely missed work, and so has Brendon. 

"Fuck, fuck fuck" is all I can say as I throw the covers off Brendon and I. He stirs slightly and nuzzles his face into my side and- _oh boy-_ he really shouldn't do that. I stop moving and breathe in deeply trying to stop my brain from thinking those not so appropriate thoughts. They pass, thankfully, and I shake Brendon's shoulders. He doesn't even move. His breathing still deep and calm. This time I push him a little, more force behind the shakes. Still he doesn't budge. I don't think twice before pushing once, very forcefully, and knocking him off the bed. A loud thud, followed by a, 

"What the actual fuck?” I lean over the edge of the bed frowning. Brendon is half laying on the ground, and half supporting himself with his elbows. He looks up at me with all sorts of emotions, anger, shock, confusion, probably pain, and sickness. "Oh my god. Shit. Fuck, I overslept. Fuck Fuck FUCK! They're gonna fire me. Ryan why in the hell didn't you wake me up?" he almost demands. I throw up my hands in surrender.

"I overslept, same as you man, chill out. They're not going to fire you". He glares at me, which I return gladly, my head hurts and I'm not in the mood for him snapping at me this early in the morning. Well afternoon, sort of.

"Yeah, but you don't have an actual job Ryan". Anger bubbles out of nowhere. 

"What the fuck? Do you think just because I volunteer doesn't make mine any less than a job? Because it does Brendon. I get paid. It might not be completely legal because it's under the table, but shit, that doesn't make it any less legitimate than yours". I know its ridiculous reasoning, but I'm angry and not in the mood to prove Brendon wrong the correct way. 

"'What the fuck' yourself. I've worked so many hours to cover the loss of money caused by your lack of a steady job. So don't try and tell me yours compares to mine at all. Cause it fucking doesn't Ryan". I can't believe he just said that. 

"Well damn I'm sorry Brendon. You want me to get all sad and apologize. Would that make you bitch less?" 

"Fuck you Ryan. I hope you step in dog shit today at your 'legitimate job'"

"Yeah?" I ask, raising my voice. I realize the both of us are standing now, and are very, very close. Why and how does this always happen?

"Yeah. Dammit Ryan, get out of my way so I can get dressed and head out. You and your nasty hair are in my way," Brendon retorts. I don't think, or my mind doesn't register quick enough to control my arms. I see them shove Brendon backwards and I think I feel them make contact with him, but I don't know if I actually did that. But my mind doesn't have time to make that connection before I feel, and I feel this, Brendon's hands making contact with my bony chest, slamming me back on top of my bed. I grab his arm and pull him down, because if I'm going down, so is he. We both land heavily, half on and half off the mattress, side by side. I roll on top of Brendon and pin him down, even though I'm way to skinny for my own good, I do know how to at least defend myself, and how to fight someone else. 

"Get the hell off of me!" Brendon hisses and bucks his hips forward. 

"Apologize!" I demand, adding more pressure to his wrists.

"No. Get off Ross, or I'll make you".

"Really? How does that seem to be working out so far?"  _Bad decision._ Brendon jerks up his knee between my legs and it brings me to my knees. "You fucking asshole," I groan as I try to stifle the pain. Brendon doesn't waste time as he jumps up from the bed and throws on a shirt. "Yeah you better run Brendon. When I get up the returning kick won't be as soft". Brendon only glares and heads out the bedroom door, hand already dialing the number for his work. "Go suck off your girlfriend or something!" I yell as he walks away.  _Go suck off your girlfriend? Really Ryan? That's the best insult that came to mind? Can you even suck off-_  He comes back into the room, only to flip me off, then walks out again, slamming the front door to the apartment.

When the initial pain subsides into a dull ache I push myself off the ground and grab my phone from the nightstand. The phone call between me and my boss surprisingly isn't that harsh, mostly a mild scolding about being to work on time, the usual stuff. She tells me to take day off, and that I won’t get paid for the next three days.  _Great job there Ross, you've really done a nice job._

To make matters worse, the apartment is trashed and my head is pounding. I'm really not in the mood to clean with a hangover, but it seems like I'm the only person up for the job. Well I'm the only person in the apartment, so I guess, yeah the job boils down to me. I'm used to cleaning up around my house because if I didn't the house would've been more of a wreck than it already was. I also found out that I'm much better at cleaning when music is playing, for some reason it makes me focus on the music rather than the act of cleaning.  

So I put on some of the records I've acquired over the years. Mostly Beatles stuff, actually all Beatles except for one Rolling Stones and one The Who vinyl. The music flows through the average sized apartment as I pick up and throw away red cups.  _How can four guys use so many cups?_  There's an endless supply of cups to throw away, and it looks like one of us spilled something, or- I'm not smelling it to check. If that's pee someone is checking that themselves, I'm the one here cleaning while they do who knows what. Okay, while they go to their jobs or visit family. I'm the one who's doing who knows what now. Because I've finished cleaning, well cleaning to the best of my ability. A dirty t-shirt covers the stain in the carpet. I just grabbed a random one out of all our dirty clothes. I hope it's Brendon's. Still unsure of what to do with myself I find myself staring at the ceiling. I could call Jac and have her come over, I ignore her too much for how attractive she is.

I had met her last year on livejournal and my first reaction to her messaging me was that she was very much, and still is, out of my league. She was- _is_ -hot. Bleach blonde hair, blue eyes, and well, a very nice body. It's not like I'm trying to ignore her, I've spent a lot of time with her. A lot. And we've done a lot together, and I'm pretty sure I like her. No, I know I like her. We've been together since... a month after we got signed? I think Brendon and Audrey have been too. We all started dating around the same time. I think Brendon started dating Audrey after me and Jac. I also think it's because he was jealous. Of me of course. Because he realized how hot Jac was, and wished he had someone like that. Well that and he walked in on Jac and I once, and well, it was...interesting. The Mormon inside him was probably destroyed in that instant.  _Do Mormons have to stay virgins till marriage?_  Brendon always knocks now. 

I jump off the chair, suddenly with an idea in mind. Brendon will definitely regret kneeing me in the balls this morning. Because this time there's not going to be a door to knock on. I'm dialing Jac before I think too hard about what's about to happen.

***

"What in the actual fuck Ryan Ross?" And that would be Brendon. "Are you fucking serious?"

"Well I am fucking" comes my reply, and a smack to my cheek follows my response. "C'mon Jac, you know that's not what I meant"

"Fuck you Ryan Ross" she answers, pushing me off of her onto the floor. I bite back a comment that would earn a lot more than a slap. My elbow hits the ground with enough force for me to say a silent 'fuck'. Jac pulls her shirt back on along with her shorts. All the while Brendon just stares, a more annoyed look on his face, rather than that of surprise. Suddenly I don't know if I've won this battle.  _No, of course I have. The idea was to make him angry, nothing else. Definitely not jealous._ "I'm leaving. Call me when you learn how to not be an asshole that fucking uses women. Hi Brendon." Jac yells as she makes her way past Brendon to the open door.  _I've really fucked up now._ The door slams, and I'm left without a shirt on, my gym shorts down to my knees, and I’m lying on the ground. Brendon crosses his arms, a small mocking grin on his face. 

"Don't you dare," I begin. Brendon puts his hands up in mock surrender.

"Don't look at me, you're the one without clothes on, and without a girl, lying on the floor. I have nothing to say. Nothing at all. Especially nothing about how much of a loser you look like right now," comes Brendon's smart-assed reply.

"At least I've slept with my girlfriend. You wouldn't know about that huh Mr. Mormon."

"Oh fuck you with all the Mormon shit. You know nothing about it. And I remember telling you I'm not a Mormon anymore."

"Well something seems to be stopping you." 

"Why do you want to know so much about my sex life Ross? And pull up your fucking pants, my  _virgin_ eyes can't take it." I send a deadpan look his way before pulling up the gym shorts. 

"I don't want to know. I'm just saying, you're wasting your time. Look at her! Why have you guys not slept together yet?"

"I'm not that into her yet. Sex is...it's special, you don't just stick your dick in whatever moves Ryan."

"Not into her? How could you not be into her?" I ignore the second part of his statement. I can't tell him that I've only ever slept with Jac. 

"You don't know what I'm into Ross."

"Oh, so you're into weird shit huh?"

"You know what? Fuck you. Do what you want Ryan. I'm taking a shower and going to bed. Don't wake me up tomorrow morning either. I want to sleep in on Sunday. Go fuck what you want." He bites out before unfolding his arms and stalking into the bathroom.  _Sleep? What time is it?_  I tilt my head to look at the clock and realize it's around nine thirty.  _What the hell?_ He slams the door. There's been way too much door slamming in the past five minutes. I groan and hit my head softly on the floor. My hair is wild and curling in every direction and running my hands through it only makes it worse. I need a shower, but no, Brendon had to shower first. Him and his stupid, dirty smoothie uniform. And his stupid red glasses. He only wears them in public because his vision is shit. Maybe I could hide them somewhere. That would really show him. But they're probably in the bathroom with him.  _Dammit. But...If I'm quiet enough maybe I can grab them without him noticing._

Grabbing the couch I was so unceremoniously thrown off of, I pull myself into a sitting position. My shirt is flung somewhere, and I don't feel the need to grab it. As soon as I stand I feel the blood rush to my head and I feel slightly dizzy. I stretch and then make my way down the three foot hallway to our bathroom. The door is unlocked thankfully and I slowly turn it, pushing the door open. His glasses lay right on the counter, their lenses foggy from the heat. My hand snakes towards them and the moment I grasp them the curtain to the shower flies open.  _Shit._

"Shit."

"What the hell?" Brendon forces out angrily. The shower shuts off.  _Fuck._  My mind shuts off completely and I fully grasp the glasses and sprint out of the bathroom. "Ryan Ross!" He yells from the shower. I'm not afraid of Brendon, I just didn't think I'd get caught. I run into the bedroom trying to find a place to hide the glasses. Not sure why because he's seen me already. There's a thud and a groan in the bathroom, and I'm frozen in the middle of the two beds. Brendon appears in the doorway. There's only a towel wrapped around him.  _Of course there is Ryan, that's how people look when they come out of the shower._ Against my will, I gulp. My fist clenches around the glasses harder than needed as he takes a menacing step forward. "Give. Me. Those. Glasses. Ryan." 

"No."

"I can hardly see without them Ryan c'mon."

"Come get them."  _What the fuck Ross? What happened to ignoring him?_

"Ryan."

"Afraid Brendon?"

"Of you? Never."

"What are you waiting for then?"  _I'm really asking for it. But how hard can it be to fend off a blind Brendon?_

Turns out pretty hard. He launches himself at me, and I'm still frozen as we collide.  _Move Ryan!_ My instincts suddenly kick in and I am able to break my fall slightly by landing on my butt rather than back first. Not like it's much of a difference because there's not much padding anywhere on my body. But Brendon is also skinny like I am, and suddenly we become a tangled mess of thin limbs, banging elbows, and knobby knees. I can't think with him on top of me because it’s him but then suddenly I can't breathe. It's not his fault, but I have a problem with being helpless underneath someone. Too many times my father has held me down and beaten me. My mind shuts off again and I'm in panic mode. I feebly try and push him off, the glasses long forgotten, have rolled out of my hand and I'm struggling to push him off of me. "Brendon please," I try to force out. It's a hoarse whisper and I don't know if he hears it because he presses down harder. I'm thirteen years old again and my father is sitting on top of me, forcing my face into the ground. I can't breathe.  _It's just Brendon. It's just Brendon. You can breathe Ryan._ "Brendon please," I repeat and his weight lifts immediately. 

"Shit. Ryan, I-" Brendon mumbles out as he scoots backwards on the ground away from me. 

"No, no it's... its fine. I-my dad. He," I breathe in heavily as I roll over, my breath short and raspy, "he used to hold me down like that 'till I couldn't breathe. Not your fault. Didn't know." Brendon opens his mouth to reply but my hand lifts and waves away whatever his reply was going to be. It takes a minute for my breathing to return to its normal rate, all the while Brendon stares, glasses now on his face, with concern towards me. "Sorry for taking your glasses". 

"No, man. There's no need to apologize, this was my bad. I should've known," Brendon replies. His voice has lost its edge and it's like it was when we first met. Scared of being judged. Nervous and shaky. I don’t like this. I’m constantly messing things up.

"Hey, don't worry about it. Really Bren, it's okay, I just got a little freaked out. Now I'm good, and you have your glasses," I answer softly, a slight laugh near the end. I sit up and scoot to where my back rests against my bed. I pull my knees up to my chest and stare at Brendon. He's still in the towel. That, I find surprising. He mirrors my sitting position up against his bed and our feet are only separated by a couple of inches. He smiles, but I think it's more of a grimace. "Bren, I promise. It's not a big deal. It's over". I duck my head slightly and avoid looking at the towel. I focus on the carpet. 

We sit for a moment, chests rising silently. I lean my head back against the bed and I think Brendon does the same. There’s a weird sort of tension in the air, not really uncomfortable, just different.

"Calling me Bren again?" I hear him say softly. When I tilt my head down to meet his eyes, I can't. He's staring at the ground rather than his head being tilted back. His face is slightly red so I can’t imagine what mine looks like.

"Huh?" I ask questioningly. I know what his question was, so I don't know why I ask.

"Nothing," comes the whisper. 

"Bren." 

"Ry." 

"Yes."

"Yes, what?"

"Yes I'm calling you Bren again. Is that okay?" Now it's my turn to feel the heat crawl up my face. 

"Yeah...yeah that's okay. Ryan?"

"Yeah?"

"Your hair."

"What about it?" My face is burning. 

"It's distracting."  _Oh._

"Your towel is distracting."

"In a good way?"  _Jesus Brendon._

"Is my hair distracting in a good way?"  _I need to stop. I'm with Jac, he's with Audrey._

"I think you know."  _I do._

"Fuck," Brendon whispers.  _Fuck is right. He shouldn't be allowed to say that with his voice._

I'm not sure who moves first, but either way we meet in the middle and his mouth finds mine. And his hands find my hair. They tangle in it. One of my hands curls around his neck and splays against the back of his head, the other wraps around his stomach and pulls him closer. We're both on our knees in the small space between our beds, bony, and shirtless- _shirtless-_  pressed against each other. He opens his mouth slightly to deepen the kiss, his hands running through my already curly hair. "So-" he breaks off whispering against my mouth, "-soft. Hair". My hand wrapped around his stomach clenches his side and he pulls my head towards him. I don't think it can get closer. But it can. He leans back, pulling me with him. I can't think and this time it's not for a bad reason. I can't stop the slight groan that escapes my mouth as we lay flat now. My hands now support my weight by the sides of Brendon's head. His hands still thread their way through my messy hair, and his mouth still moves against mine. He smiles against my mouth and something changes then. I'm not sure what it is, but this time it's me who deepens the kiss. I drop down onto one elbow to support myself, and the other hand comes to rest against his abdomen. He freezes, which in return makes me freeze and I lift my hand, suddenly nervous that I've scared him. But he removes a hand from my hair and it comes to rest atop my hand, forcing it back down. My eyes open-I'm not sure when they closed- and I find that he's staring up at me. He's still wearing his glasses, but I find that I don't care. 

So I close my eyes and lean down, finding his mouth again. That mouth that I've spent months trying not to stare at. Months of pretending that I was kissing him while I was kissing Jac. Months of waiting for something to happen between us. I wasn’t even sure what it was, but I think this is it.

He's smiling too much and I'm smiling too much for this to even remotely work, but I find that it doesn't matter. I'm kissing Brendon, and that does matter. My hand reaches further down and it brushes the edge of the towel, and although he doesn't freeze I feel Brendon tense beneath me. My hand stops and I brush it back up to where it was and then up further to rest on his chest. If his feels this bony, I'm afraid to even think of mine. A slight pain breaks my thoughts on that and I realized he's bitten my lower lip, and  _wow...wow, that was...hot._ He pulls it between his teeth and another groan escapes my mouth.  _Control yourself Ryan._ I run my long fingers back down his upper body and he shudders. Brendon deepens the kiss without breaking contact with my lips by swiping his tongue over the lip he just bit. And  _holy hell._ His grip tightens on my hair as his tongue explores my mouth and this time I do bite back the groan. My fingers dance along his side and come up to splay against the side of his face. 

The lock to the front door turns and I practically leap off Brendon. My chest rises up and down rapidly and I try to control the quickness of my breath. Brendon has jumped up onto his bed just as quickly. My hair is all over the place and falling in my eyes, but my heart is still hammering and I'm ignoring both my and Brendon's crotches. Because  _wow, how did I let this happen? Ignoring him was the plan. Staying just friends but admiring from afar. Staying with Jac because I can't be with Brendon. Not almost having sex with him. That was the complete opposite of the plan._ "Shower. I'm gonna-" I break off and point my thumb towards the bathroom. Brendon nods vigorously and I avoid eye contact. I don't make it to the threshold of the bedroom before Spence stands in front of me. He's smiling and he has a girl with him.... _What? Wait, no what?_

"Hey guys! This is Lindsey. Ryan you know her, we all went to school together-" Spence begins and motions towards the girl standing awkwardly behind him.

"That's great Spence. I remember her. Hey Lindsey. But uh, if you don't mind, I uh have to shower. Yeah. That's what I was doing. Getting ready to take a shower. Right Brendon?"  _Right Brendon? What in the hell Ross? Get your shit together._ Brendon just pulls his towel tighter, then the bedspread over himself and nods. Spence looks extremely confused as I push past him and his girlfriend, well I assume it's his girlfriend, and into the shower. I nearly slam the door as I push myself in. When I look up into the mirror I have to bite back a frustrated groan. I look like I've just had sex. Well, I have today, but that's not what this is from. This was all Brendon's doing. My mouth is swollen, my hair is...it's beyond saving, my pupils are so large my eyes appear to be black. And well there's the issue with my gym shorts. They don't exactly hide anything.  _Jesus Ross. I'm sure that'll be fun to explain. "Yeah Spence, me and Brendon were just having a normal conversation. Oh this? I don't know how that happened. I guess talking about politics really gets me fucking going"._

I brace my hands on the sink counter and dip my head between my shoulders. Well, all that's left is to take a shower and get rid of this. 

What to do after the shower, and how to deal with Brendon now. Now that we've crossed the line between just friends. Now that we both know we turn each other on. Now that we've both almost just crossed another line, that when crossed, cannot be uncrossed.

I hear some fumbling outside the door but I ignore it. "What am I doing?" I whisper to myself, my head still hanging between my shoulders.

"Good question. Let's figure that out". My head snaps up to see Brendon closing the door behind him. "I told Spence and his girlfriend that there was a problem with your father and that I needed to talk to you, so they've left to give us some space. But um, I think we should talk about what just happened."

"What did just happen?"

"Again, good question. That's what I'm in here for".

"Well when you find out the answer, I'm all ears".

"Ry".

"Bren, don't. That's what started  _this,"_ I mumble, my head between my shoulders again. My shoulder feels suddenly hot and I find Brendon's hand resting on it. 

"If I remember correctly, you were the one who called me Bren first," he laughs, his voice still low. "And why say it like that? Do you have a problem with what just happened?" 

"Yes. No. No I don't. I'm just confused. We're both dating girls, and I just had sex with my girlfriend this morning, multiple times-" Brendon raises an unamused eyebrow.  _Atta way Ross, way to look like a dick,_ "- and then we almost just do the same thing. I mean, if we had kept going, Brendon, you wouldn't have been a virgin anymore," I finish. He seems to think about it for a minute and then sits on the closed toilet lid. 

"You seem very confident in yourself Ryan. You sure that would've happened?" 

"Of course-" his eyebrows shoot up, "- I mean, only if you wanted it. I'm not like that".

"Okay, well...What do you want to do about this? Cause I’m not very sure how that happened"

"I’m not very sure either. Brendon I don’t know either, but we’re past the point of being plain 'ole friends now I guess," I attempt a laugh, but I still can't make eye contact with him. Him being in here isn't really helping my situation further down south either. 

"Yeah..." Brendon trails off. He looks a little confused, and keeps staring at me there. 

"We could chalk it up to me just coming off sex and you being a bit inexperienced?" I try for a solution. As soon as I say it though, I wish I hadn't. 

"I'm sure that's what it was. Whatever Ryan," Brendon snaps. He stands up and pushes past me, his shoulder bumping me as he passes. "You might want to take care of that though. Wouldn't want anyone to know that you were turned on by another guy". With that said he pulls open the door and walks out. This time there is no slamming, but I wish he would. That would make it easier. Though I don't think anything is easy when it comes to Brendon Urie.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor ryro is confused a lil. But he's also kind of a dick in this chapter? That kind of goes with him being confused though. Also srry to just kind of having Jac and Audrey sprinkled in here. I forgot about them??? Like completely forgot and then I was like "yike, gotta add them". But they'll make more appearances later on through this whole Era. So don't worry.


	7. Recording Time (And Maybe More?)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The band gets told it's time to record, so they decide College Park, Maryland is the place. Lots of stress and arguing follows, and maybe some jealousy? Who knows? (I know)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay I'm not really sure how the whole them getting to College Park happened, but in this instance they're gonna fly. Cause who doesn't love a good plane discourse?

I've officially and royally fucked up. Jac hasn't answered my phone calls and Brendon is pretending I don't exist. I've been trying to pretend like it doesn't affect me, and I could care less that he hasn't so much as glanced in my direction. But the thing is I care. I care a lot more than I should. I care more than a guy, who has a girlfriend, should care about another guy who also has a girlfriend. Denying that now after my obvious excitement is pointless and it would just piss Brendon off more.

He spends most of his time with Audrey and he seems perfectly happy to do so. And I'm not bitter at all. Not at all. Because I've got Spencer. Spencer who also hasn't been doing anything with anyone other than his girlfriend. So it turns out I don't really have Spencer either. I don't really feel like spending time with Brent. We've tried to hang out and attempt to get along recently but it's been awkward and mostly just talking about band stuff. 

Today we all sit in the apartment living room attempting to go through our songs but it's difficult when I try to tell Brendon that he needs to sing a note differently, or when he needs to fix his timing, he completely ignores me. He's acting like a child and this is not the time at all, we have to start recording soon, or at least that's what Pete told us. So this time when Brendon doesn't sing Camisado right, and I think it was on purpose, I stand up from the love seat and set my guitar down without a word. All eyes are on me as I make my way to the small kitchen and start grabbing the things needed to make dinner. 

"Well if no one is going to take this seriously-" I break off and narrow my eyes at Brendon, "-I'll make dinner while you guys actually decide if you want to play right". Spencer mouths 'what are you talking about?' to me but I ignore that. I also ignore the narrowed eyebrows from Brendon and the confused look from Brent. I feel my face burning because  _of course Brendon does it on that song to get to me. Of course. Because I told him and I trusted him when I shouldn't have. He knew what that song means to me and he fucks with it to spite me._

I slam the jar of tomato sauce on the counter before I realize what I'm doing and thankfully it doesn't break. But it does make a very loud noise which everyone makes a general face of surprise at. Even Brendon. "What?" I demand. I know why they're staring but for some reason I feel the need to be defensive, because fuck them, I'll slam things if I want to. 

"If you keep bitching and slamming stuff Ryan and everyone in the complex will here you," comes Brendon's snarky reply. 

"It was a rhetorical question you shithead!"

" _You're_ calling  _me_ a shithead? Really? Do you honestly want to go there?" Brendon is standing now, but he holds his guitar by the neck in his left hand. His grip it dangerously tight, making his hand white. Spencer and Brent look like they walked in on the middle of parents arguing, and well maybe they have. Spence keeps trying to make eye contact with me, but I lean my head forward to let the hair fall in my face, blocking him.

I ignore Brendon and busy myself with pouring the tomato sauce in a pot, and when I turn to face the stove, setting the pot on it, I hear something like a guitar being set down. We don't have any meat because it's too expensive, so tonight we're gonna just have spaghetti noodles and sauce. Brendon and I can both cook pretty well so we share cooking duties. But tonight it seems to fall on me, or I make it that way because I'll have gone crazy if I had to sit staring at Brendon for any longer.

I fill up the only other pot we have with water and set it to high, hoping to cook, eat and clean in the shortest amount of time, because maybe I can shower before all of them then get to bed without speaking throughout anything. Whispers ensue in the living room and some are louder than others. I hear lots of 'whys' and 'hell no's', which I know all come from Brendon and I laugh to myself a little. Getting lectured by Spencer is never fun and this time it's not me on the receiving end. But nothing is funny anymore when I turn around and Brendon is facing me, arms crossed, and glaring. 

"Go on Brendon. You're helping whether you like it or not. And I'd like to eat my dinner sooner rather than later," Spencer announces from the living room. I can't tell what his face looks like but I'm sure it’s one of his 'stern fatherly' looks that doesn't really fit him. This is why Spence and I have been best friends since we were little. He always knows what to do and what to say and how to act despite everything. And wow am I thankful for that. Especially right now because now Brendon has to acknowledge me. 

"I'm fucking going," Brendon shouts back to Spence, not with very much bite behind it though. He turns back to me, and I'm still standing with spaghetti noodles in my hand. "What do I do?" he asks, arms still crossed and a scowl set deep. I reach out the hand with the noodles and he takes them from me. I nod my head towards the stove and he just stares at me, "What?"

"Put them in the water dumb ass. You act like you’ve never fucking cooked before," I spit out cringing internally at how much of an asshole I sound like. Brendon walks over and dumps them in without looking at me.  _Yes Ross, get mad at yourself for being pissy with him, then go do it again. Really great job._

I rub my hands through my hair and then drag them across my face. "Sorry, that was uncalled for," I mumble and he looks up at me from where he was previously staring at the ground. He's leaning against the stove. And his shirt. His shirt. It's a bit too small, so it's riding up on his stomach and it's very distracting. So distracting that it takes Brendon clearing his throat to stop my way-to-obvious staring. 

"You're very confusing Ryan Ross," is the only words I hear from him before he begins setting our tiny table in the living room. I silently curse myself and run my hands through my hair again, shaking it up a little. The noodles have finished boiling apparently and I had no idea because I had to go stare at Brendon's stomach for who knows how long. I drain them and bring them with the sauce to the table where everyone is sitting in their respective seats. And unfortunately this entails me sitting across from Brendon.  _Fantastic, the way these things work._  

"Dinner is served," I announce, spreading my arms in a grand gesture. A small smile on my face, because I realize how dramatic that was. Only when I sit do I remember that this is going to be extremely awkward if we all sit here and stare at each other. And stare we do. Brendon at me, and I at him. Brent and Spence pass questioning looks across the table to each other and I pretend not to notice. After every bite of noodles Brendon glares at me, and I return it with as much anger as I can muster. I'm not even sure why this is happening, but apparently when all else fails anger is the only other emotion available to express anything. 

As I'm bringing the glass of water to my mouth I feel a sharp pain in my shin, and almost choke on the water before spitting it back into the glass. 

"What the fuck Brendon?"

"That wasn't me," he replies in a fake accused way, holding his hands up as in surrender. Instead of answering I return the kick just as sharply, if not harder. 

"Fuck you Ross!"

A kick follows.

"You started it"

Another kick to his shin.

"Are you two serious right now? Kicking each other under the table? Saying 'You started it'? You realize you're acting like children. Do I need to send you to the room? Sit in time-out?" Spencer barks and now we're both on the receiving end of Spencer's dad-isms. Both Brendon and I cross our arms and I look down at the table, hoping to avoid Spencer's eyes. He's younger than me, hell I'm the oldest one here, yet he still is somehow more mature than me.

When I look back up from the table I see that Brendon is staring at the table as well, but his mouth is set in a sort of pout. I don't even think he realizes he's doing it, but I do think he needs to stop.  _How can I go from kicking him one minute to wanting to bite his lip the next? He is right though, I am very confusing, but it's not my fault._ "Well? Anyone going to answer? Because it wasn't a rhetorical question".

"Don't send them to the room. They get in there and maybe instead of all the eye-fucking, it'll be actual fucking".  _What. The. Fuck._ Brent sits back after finishing his statement, crossing his arms. "You guys are way too obvious for it to even be healthy". I freeze, my body turns cold and tingly and I can't meet anyone's eyes. I open my mouth to speak but no words pour out.  _I can write all the fucking words I want. A damn lyrical genius, but the moment I have to speak it's like I've regressed to my one year old self._

"Brent, that was pretty uncalled for. And so what? It's sex. That's all. If people want to do it, and are consenting I don't see a problem," Spence replies. Brendon looks like he can't believe this is real. 

"All I'm saying is that it's gross. Both of them sit there and stare at each other, like there's no one else in the room. They used to share a bed for Christ’s sake. Then they start playing fucking footsies in the middle of dinner. If they want to do this can they not be so obvious about it?" Comes Brent's fucking asshole reply. I stand up, my chair falls to the ground and all eyes turn to me, even Brendon's, who look just as confused as I think they would. 

"I'd rather not talk about my sex life at the dinner table. I'm going over to Jac's. And you know what  _Brent_? I'll go have sex there. However many times I want. And then I'll fucking come back here and I'll fucking stare at Brendon. I'll fucking stare at whoever I want, I'll fucking fuck-" I break off because my phone vibrates in my pocket. My shoulders are heaving up and down and I have to compose myself before pulling it out of my pocket and answering it with a breathy "Hello?"

_"Hey, it's Pete. This is Ryan right?"_

"Yeah, I mean yes. This is Ryan. How are things?"

_"They've been better, but hey, I'll just cut to the chase cause I'm sure you guys have been waiting to hear this... It's time to record. You'll be going to College Park, Maryland to record, and well it's all gonna start within the end of the week. So I hope you're ready. I'll send you all the details on where to go and what to do to your email. What is that again?"_

"Uh..." I break off and lower my voice, "It’s blinkexists@aol.com"

_"Can you say that louder? I didn't catch that."_

"I said, 'blinkesists@aol.com'. That's my email, yep, there it is" I receive multiple questioning looks to which I try to ignore. "I made it in middle school okay, I get it. It's lame".

" _Ohhhkayy. Well just be ready by Saturday, cause that's when hell breaks loose. See you then at the address I'm sending! Love ya Ross!"_ _And with that he hangs up the phone. So much has just happened in the past five minutes that my brain seems to have stopped working._

"Pete. He uh, said it was time to record and we needed to be in College Park, Maryland by Saturday at an address he's going to send me," I announce as a sort of explanation. 

"blinkexists? Yeah Ryan?" Spencer questions eyebrows raised. I open my mouth again to say anything, give an explanation of some sort but there's nothing. Nothing at all, so I just raise my shoulders and shrug. Nobody except him laughs and I'm not sure how to stop the awkwardness that flows freely through the air. Brendon looks like he might throw up and Brent just looks satisfied with himself. 

"I'm uh gonna go to bed now. Cause I can’t think of anything to say and I don't know what I'm going to do if Brent speaks to me again, so yeah, I'm heading to bed," I announce, not angry just exasperated more or less. Without so much as waiting for a reply I stalk into the bedroom, turn off the lights and fall into my bed without even changing clothes. 

***

We're flying to College Park. Flying. In a plane. That's paid for. I've never been on a plane and I don't know whether to be scared or excited. What if someone hijacks our plane and kills us all? What if there's a storm and it crashes? What if I'm just freaking myself out over nothing?

We're all walking down the runway to a smaller more private plane, that I'm assuming Pete, or whoever he works for, paid for. Brendon is in front of me, pulling a suitcase and holding his guitar in its case. Brent is next to him, holding the same things. They don't appear to be talking, and it actually looks like Brendon is staring at the ground. Hell I wouldn't want to talk to Brent either.  

A hand lands on my shoulder, and I find that it's Spencer's. He squeezes it tightly and then ruffles my hair with his other hand. 

"Look a little freaked Ross. Sure you're fine to fly?" He asks with a wide grin. I lightly punch his shoulder and return the grin, though not as enthusiastically. 

"Yeah I guess I'm a little nervous. Never really been on a plane before. But hell, I'll fly when I get the chance. And plus if we do die, I'll see you in Hell," I answer, cracking up at the end while Spence gives me a slight shove. 

"You wish Ross. You'll be stuck down there and I'll be in heaven with my 47 virgins," Spence laughs. 

"Spence that's not even the right religion-"

"Ryan, do I look like the kind of dude who cares what religion that is? I'm just there for the virgins," he cuts me off trying to be serious, but in a matter of seconds he loses it. His laughter makes me laugh, and then it's just the both of us cracking up as we near the plane. I'm hardly nervous anymore and I've never been gladder to have Spence. 

We board the plane and the first thing I notice is the camera crew already waiting inside. 

"What the fuck?" That seems to fall from all four of our mouths at the same time. One of the camera guys steps forward and I take a step back. 

"Were you all not informed of this?" he asks me. I don't know why he's asking me. I'm not the front man. 

"What is there to be informed of?" Spence asks from behind me, since apparently I can't open my mouth. 

"Umm, well we're your camera crew and we'll be sticking with you guys for as long as you're a band. We thought Pete would've told you guys," the same guy answers Spence.  _So this is what Pete meant by hell breaking loose. Photographers are going to follow us around forever. That's going to make things a lot harder._

"Make what harder?" The photographer asks and everyone turns to me. Everyone. Because of course I said that out loud. Brendon's eyes are wide as he stares, and I'm not sure what expression he's wearing. 

"I was just thinking out loud. Let's pretend I didn't say that," I reply, my tone hardening. Everyone moves out of my way as I sit down in the chair that has my bags in it already. Apparently our seats have been predetermined. I got the window seat, though, so if worse comes to worse I can stare out the window or pretend to be asleep. 

There are some further exchanges between the rest of the band and the camera crew. I hope they can work everything out without me, because I don't plan on being the slightest bit helpful.

Then worse does come to worse because apparently those predetermined seats were not thought out well. Brendon walks over slowly and stares down at me. His red glasses are almost falling off his face and I want to tell him that, except I can't be bothered to. 

"It uh, looks like we're sitting together," he mumbles, motioning to his seat. He hasn't sat down yet. 

"Looks to be so," I reply, slightly exasperated. I'm really just tired and nervous, but I'm trying not to let it show. When he still hasn't sat down I look up at him, but I can't really get a good view so I brush my hair back from my face. He's just staring down at me with another one of those damn unreadable expressions. "Sorry, I'm just tired". I don't really know what else to say. 

"You busy with Jac or something last night?" he asks and finally takes a seat.  _Did he actually just ask me that?_

"About as busy as you were with Audrey".

"Pretty busy then".  _Wait what?_

"What the fuck Brendon?" I ask, suddenly more awake than I've been in weeks. "I thought you wanted to..." I trail off not really wanting to say it out loud. 

"I lied. You were right, she is hot and I was stupid not to see it. Plus, I figured we were going to be gone for a while, so I figured I would give her a goodbye present," he replies. There's no emotion on his face this time. I'm sure my face is the complete opposite. I was never good at hiding my emotions, especially with situations like these. I feel cold all over, and I don't like it. But while I'm not good at controlling my emotions I am good at pretending to feel the opposite of what my heart and brain try to make me feel. At least a little. 

"Damn, must've been nice then? I mean she's almost as hot as Jac," I reply laughing with a light punch on the arm. I don't want to laugh. 

"Oh fuck you, she's hotter," he laughs and punches back. Of course he laughs. Because...because I did this. I was a dick and he did exactly what I told him to do. Sleep with his girlfriend. 

"I'm still surprised, how would she want to fuck you when you look like that? Nerdy ass red glasses," I joke and push his glasses back up on his face. 

"At least you can look at me from behind and not mistake me as a woman," Brendon replies with fake hurt and ruffles my hair. My neck tingles the moment his hand touches me head. 

"You know what would make this better?" I ask loudly, hoping to catch Spencer and Brent's attention as well. 

"Huh?" Spence yells from behind. 

"Extreme amounts of alcohol," I yell back and everyone cheers.  _Good, because alcohol is about the only thing getting me through this plane ride._

***

About two hours later, and copious amounts of underage drinking, I'm slammed. Brendon is dancing with the camera crew, taking up about a third of the room on the plane. Spencer and Brent seem to be having some deep conversation because they haven't stopped talking for the whole two hours we've been drinking. The only thing I've been doing for two hours is trying to figure out what to do with myself now. But my sober mind and my drunk mind are two very different things.

I have absolutely no impulse control. Because if I had impulse control I would be able to stop my body from getting out of its seat. I would stop it from walking over to Brendon. I would stop it from grabbing him by his collared shirt and into the bathroom at the back of the plane. It would stop the rush of words that fly out of my mouth.

"Listen I know I've-" I burp.  _That was nasty._ "- been not too nice to you for the past couple of days, no, weeks. And I really would like it if we could-" I pause, covering my mouth with my hand as I feel something make its way up my throat.  _Not right now._ "- could just be friends. I think I've said that before, but I broke my own rules. And I'm just as confused about this," I motion between the two of us, "as you are. I'm not really sure what else to say. And I think I'm about to throw up". 

"I guess".  _What? That's all I get?_ Brendon just stares at me and suddenly I look at myself from his eyes. A drunk. A drunk who is acting like their father. Only able to say what they really want when they're drunk off their ass. 

"Okay. I guess that's about what I expected. I'm gonna throw up now," and the moment I finish my statement I feel it. Brendon rushes forward to stop me from falling I think. I lamely attempt to push my hair out of my face, but it's not staying and my other arm is shaking from holding myself up. I feel another hand come to rest on the side of my head, holding back my hair.  _Well this is pitiful._

It takes about five extremely awkward and silent, besides the obvious sounds, minutes for me to finish throwing up.  _Both times I've gotten drunk Brendon has been there. And both times he's had to witness me vomit. Third times a charm right Ross?_ I stand up slowly and Brendon makes eye contact with me in the mirror, he actually looks like he feels sorry for me. Then it's gone and he's out of the bathroom before I can open my dumb ass mouth again.  _Why do I ever think alcohol will solve anything?_

***

The plane landing jolts me from my sleep. Slowly opening my eyes reveals that apparently I slept on Brendon's shoulder for the last leg of the flight.  _Fantastic._ I lift my head off his shoulder quickly and he stays sleeping. Luckily everyone else is sleeping still to, unaffected by the plane landing. When I look back at his shoulder- _fuck-_  I realize I've drooled on him. I actually did that. I can't try and wipe it off because it would be extremely obvious that someone other than him caused that. And the only person close enough to him is me, and that would definitely not help my case.

But I could just pretend I don't remember the whole thing that happened about two hours ago. I could pretend my impulse control actually decided to take over and add rational thought into my forte. The second Brendon starts to stir from his sleep I decide that, yes pretending that didn't happen is the best choice. 

"Looking kind of hungover there huh Urie?" I try to joke at him and all I get is a lazy half assed punch in the arm.  _Good, joking is good._

"That insult was almost as weak as your stomach," he shoots back, and for a moment I freeze, but he laughs. Then seems to regret laughing so loud, because he grabs his head and whispers something along the lines of 'never drinking again'.

Spence appears out of nowhere, clinging onto Brendon's seat, smiling and apparently unfazed by any of the drinking that occurred.

"Guys can you believe we're about to record? This is forreal! We're actually going to do this!" he practically shouts in Brendon's ears. Brendon groans and excuses himself to the bathroom quickly.

"You know Spence, we don't even have all the songs written, it's just bits and pieces," I reply quietly, hoping Spence will take notice in the volume change.

"Well yeah, but we'll help you," he pauses and stares at my unamused expression, "or we could not help you. That seems fine I guess. Mr. Lyrical genius. The next Rimbaud. Whatever helps you sleep at night"  _He didn't really just use a gay poet as a comparison, because Spence would try and be more subtle. Wouldn't he?_

"Of course you guys can help. Jeez, I just never thought any of you would want to," comes my exasperated response.

"This is your pilot speaking. In just a moment you all will be able to exit the plane and be on your way. Thank you for travelling with us," is said over the intercom and suddenly everyone is awake and bustling about. Grabbing their bags, all eager to get out of this cramped plane and see Maryland for the first time. The plane comes to a stop and it takes about ten minutes to connect the terminal to the plane and then we're all off. But the band has to walk behind the photographers. They 'have to record the moment' so they say. Snapping pictures every three seconds. I've never really been a fan of people, and to have some documenting every moment of my life stresses me out way more than I thought would be possible.

So I focus on things. I distract myself. My current distraction seems to be the back of Brendon's head, since we're all walking in a single file line, and he's in front of me. As he should be, though, because he is the front man now, and it's his turn to have everything laid upon him. Now I get to sit in the background. I hope they get good pictures of his glasses, cause there's no way he's living that down.

I told the band all the information Pete gave me, which included who to meet at the airport, which address to go to, and what time everything was supposed to happen. Nothing else of course. Pete and I have been messaging each other for a while, ever since he signed us, and I would like to think we're friends. He's never really been the more serious type of guy. He's like Steeve-O from Jackass, but 2.0. Shit all the stories I've heard, and some of the ones he's told me, yeah, the vagueness from him was definitely on purpose.

So we all collectively try and find the 'guy in the blue jacket, you'll know him when you see him' holding up a sign. Or at least that's what Pete said. We've spotted multiple guys wearing blue, but never a blue jacket. And just when we're on the verge of giving up because 'Pete lied. He's fucking with us and this whole thing was a joke', because we're extremely dramatic, we spot the guy in the blue jacket. He's holding a sign that reads 'Future VMA winners Panic! At the Disco'.  _Thanks Pete._

Even though Brendon is the front man, Spencer is the one who does most of the talking because he's actually very good at it. He always knows what to say or what to do, and although I say it a lot, I don't know where I would be without Spencer Smith.

He introduces us to the guy, whose name is Daniel, I think, and then somehow we're all walking through the airport towards a large black SUV. I'm still focusing on Brendon because now he is the only person close to me. Spencer is walking in front of me talking to Daniel, jacket guy, and Brent is behind us with the camera crew. Brendon is walking next to me, pushing up his glasses every few seconds and each time they fall I resist the urge to push them back up for him. Well it's not really hard resisting physically because I'm carrying my guitar case in one hand and my suitcase in the other. It's the mental holding back that's hard to comply.

"You know one day they're going to fall off and you're going to step on them or something," I tell Brendon, still staring at those damn red glasses.

"One day probably. But staring at them constantly isn't going to make them stay on," he replies, a grin forming as he turns to face me. We reach the SUV on the pick-up ramp, and it saves me from having to comment further on the situation where I should've just kept my mouth shut in the first place. It turns out the car is almost like a limo on the inside, I would really only know based off movies though. The seats face each other and there's a sun roof.

I end up sitting next to Spencer and across from Brendon. Brent next to him, though neither looks to be very pleased with how the seating arrangements worked out. I'm still angry with Brent, and I know that if I still am Brendon definitely is. But there's not much we could do, and we were basically shoved into the car because we were running a bit late. I pull out my phone and shoot Jac a quick text to let her know we landed safely. I send another to Pete, letting him know that we're en route to the studio/home for the next couple of weeks. Jac replies that she misses me already with a winky face but I don't respond. Pete also responds with a winky face. Nothing else though.  _Cryptic fucker._

The ride to the studio is a bit longer than expected and much more awkward than the plane ride. We sat in complete and utter silence for about an hour. Though Brendon and I made faces at each other the whole ride, there was no more excitement from the rest of the gang. If this continues recording should be very interesting.

***

This damn place is smaller than our other apartment. Our bedroom isn't even large enough to be a bedroom, at least not by any normal standards. We have to share bunk beds. Actual bunk beds. Like we're twelve or something. Unfortunately I was the last to get inside the room and I get to bunk with Brent. I send traitorous glares at Brendon and Spencer who just shrug. I didn't even get top bunk.

The rest of the apartment/studio is about the same size as Brendon and I’s apartment back home in Vegas though. We get a kitchen and a living room, a studio, and two bathrooms. One connected to the bedroom and one right by the entrance of the studio.

Before we even get a chance to settle in my phone rings. It's Pete.

 _"Hey. Heard you guys made it there safe and just got to your studio apartment. I'll be there tomorrow to visit and make sure everything is fine. By the way, lots of photo shoots heading your way! Love ya Ross! Bye!"_ He manages to get all of that out before I even have a chance to respond.  _Fantastic. Photo shoots. Cause we're definitely one big happy band right now._

"It was Pete, just letting us know he'll be here tomorrow. And that photo shoots will soon follow," I tell everyone. We're all sitting on the floor in front of our bunks, trying to rest off the jet-lag, if you could call it that. They all nod, seeming to accept the fate that is becoming a band.

"We might as well get some sleep to prepare for tomorrow I guess. It is pretty late here, the whole time change thing. Not sure how it works, but it's pretty late at night here," Brendon replies sleepily. Again, more nods in agreement. So we all say our 'good-nights' and hop into bed after changing. I'm asleep instantly, and I'm almost sure everyone else is to.

It's around seven in the morning when there's a loud knocking at the front door. I'm a light sleeper, so of course I'm the one who gets to see who it is. But when I roll out of bed I notice Brendon doing the same.  _Why does he never wear shirts?_

We both make our way into the darkened living room area and I go to open the door. It's Pete of course. I, for one, didn't think I would ever see Pete Wentz awake at seven in the morning, much less seeming so eager to be awake at that time. I push my bed hair out of my eyes and run my hand through it a couple times while motioning him inside. He's holding coffee in his hands and I really hope that's for us.

Thankfully it is. All five of them are iced caramel macchiatos, Pete's favorite apparently, I don't comment on how girly his taste in coffee is. It's Pete Wentz, insulting him would earn me a death sentence. Or at least I think it would. He's like a god when it comes to writing lyrics.

The three of us sit for a minute, all waking up as we sip at our coffees. Brendon is the first to break the silence.

"So how does this whole recording thing work? Is it like when I came to help for Cork Tree?" Pete seems to think about it for a minute, running his hands through his black hair. I almost forgot about that. Brendon had left for about a week to go with Pete right when we had first signed and he had helped do some backing vocals on their album. It had been pretty early on in our career, a time when I had barely even spoken to Brendon, so it had just sat in the back of my mind.

"Basically like recording your demos but a lot more complicated. Brendon should know a little about it, since he did come and help, but I can't really explain it without showing you. Just know that after recording the first song it all becomes less stressful," Pete answers, still sipping at his coffee. The light from outside starts to break through the blinds from the only window in the apartment, and I start to hear the sounds of waking up coming from the bedroom. Soon enough Spencer and Brent join us. They say their 'Hi's' to Pete, then graciously accept the coffee. 

I still can't believe this is happening. We're going to record music, for our band, for our album, not just singing backup vocals on another band's album, but our very own album, all because Pete Wentz, Pete fucking Wentz, signed us. And he's currently sitting with us in our living room after buying us coffee.

"Thank you," I blurt out in the middle of a conversation apparently. Brendon and Pete both look up from what they were speaking about and Pete smiles, it looks like a genuine smile.

"For?" he asks.

"Everything. All of this. Taking a chance on us. Signing us before we've even recorded. Flying us here. Paying for that. Paying for our coffee. You're Pete Wentz. The actual Pete Wentz and you're doing this for us, and I just needed to say thank you". It all sounds rushed, and I'm annoyed by how childlike and filled with wonder my voice sounds but Pete just laughs.

"Ryan, I did this because I know how big you guys are gonna be. You're all talented, and you, especially you, know how to write. You're eighteen and you've written almost a whole album. I didn't do this. You all did. I'm just helping you guys along. And Brendon, you helped with one of our albums, how could we not thank you? And plus I want to be known for starting your guys' big career with my label". Pete's response earns a smile from everyone in the group and various 'thank you's' and 'no, but really, thank you's'. He just laughs it off with a wave of his hand. "You say thank you now, but just wait. Being famous and well liked comes at a price-" he seems to pause for a second, thinking on something, and I think I know what he's referring to, but never, will I ever, bring it up. "But anyways, you still have to finish all your songs and record them. Do that first and then thank me. You guys have the album artwork all figured out and everything? Or are you waiting until it’s all finished recording, gonna let the music decide?"

I look around at everyone. We discussed some plans, and we all agreed on the Moulin Rouge theme, but never really thought about album artwork.

"I guess we'll decide after the music is recorded. We've had some ideas, but never really thought we'd get this far" comes Spencer's reply before I can answer. Pete seems to think on this and nod in agreement. 

"Well, it all starts tomorrow boys! I'm sending over some people from the label that are gonna help with the process of everything. Unfortunately I can't be here, got some work to do with my band. But keep me updated and when all is said and done, we'll throw a rager for you guys. How's that sound?" Pete announces, a grin stretched wide on his face. His face looks nice when he smiles. The way his cheeks bunch up, and his eyes form little laugh lines, getting all squinty.  _Jesus Ross, that's literally Pete Wentz. Don't even go there. Don't even think about it. You literally don’t even like guys. Ross why?_

"Hell yeah man! Ragers for days" comes Brendon's reply. His tone is joking, but we all know that a really wild party could do us some good.

Pete sits and talks with us for a while. I don't really say much, no, that's mostly Spencer and Brendon. Brent almost never speaks, save for to ask questions about the bass playing. The whole time I'm stuck between staring at Pete and Brendon. Both of them attractive in their own right. Well Pete, cause he's Pete Wentz, there's really no need for an explanation. But Brendon... I don't know if I have an explanation, there's just something about him. Something that I can't seem to stop thinking of. And I really wish he didn't have that something. Whatever it is.      

At around ten in the morning Pete announces he has to leave. He tells us that of course he's sorry he never gets to spend much time with us, and he does sound genuine about it. I walk him to the door, not sure why  _I_  do.  _No, you know exactly why Ross._

"I know I said thank you before, and I know I said it earlier today, but thank you. You have no idea what, okay bear with me, cause this is cheesy, but what an inspiration you are for me when it comes to writing. I can't tell you how much I listened to Take This To Your Grave and From Under The Cork Tree-" I try to say but he cuts me off by pressing a finger to my mouth.

"Ryan Ross, you are a lyrical genius. Yes, you've said thank you plenty of times, I probably won’t get tired of hearing it. I'm glad I'm an inspiration for at least someone. That means a lot to me-” I try to open my mouth but he cuts me off again,”-and between the staring at me and Mr. Urie, I'm surprised you didn't go cross-eyed. He still 'dead sexy'?".  _He noticed my staring. He knew I was staring at him. Well fuck._

"Yes? No? Kind of? Things are a bit confusing between us right now I guess. We're both dating other people," I reply, my voice sounds child-like and I instantly hate it. 

"Huh. Interesting. Well, things only get more confusing from here, better get used to it. Love ya Ross!" and with that Pete is out the door again. 

***

"You fucking asshole! Are you serious?" That is the fantastic sound I wake up to this morning. I think it's Brent's voice. He never yells, so this must be good. I look over at Spencer and Brendon's bunk, my eyes still having to adjust in the dark. Spencer is still sleeping, so apparently Brent is yelling at Brendon. 

We've all been under a lot of stress for the past two weeks. This is about the only sleep I've gotten, between writing lyrics and recording my parts on the guitar, there's been no other time for sleep. It's been that way for all of us really. Except Brent, because he hasn't learned any of the songs completely. Brendon had to learn them, and record the bass on almost all of the songs recorded so far because Brent can't be bothered to help. Spence has drummed his heart out, and Brendon lost his voice once. The whole day we all panicked, hoping it wouldn't last longer than a day, or that would severely cut into our recording time. 

Groggily, I force myself out of bed, stretching my arms up, hoping to get something going. I've had roughly ten whole hours of sleep in the past two weeks, and nothing has really helped with the general mood between all four of us. We're all assholes to each other, and the people Pete sent to help us. I almost feel sorry for them, except they're probably used to it. My whole body tingles, from exhaustion, from running on nothing, who knows? 

When I find the source of the yelling, first I see Brent angrily running his hands through his greasy hair, and Brendon sitting on the couch, cereal bowl in hand. 

"What in the fuck is all the yelling for?" I growl. Brendon just takes a bight of the cereal without answering, a slight grin on his face, that only I notice. 

"This shit head right here ate the last of the cereal!" Brent yells back at me. 

"First off, don't yell at me. I haven't done anything except ask what happened. Second of all, you have no right to call anyone a shit head. Third of all, Brendon has had to play all your damn parts in the songs, he can fucking have the last of the god forsaken cereal". My reply isn't loud, but it doesn't need to be. It gets the point across. Brent, who can't seem to come up with a response to that, angrily throws his fists down and storms out of the apartment. 

I sit down next to Brendon on the couch, but I face him, pulling my legs up to sit Indian-style. Thankfully he's wearing a shirt. The red glasses still prevail. One day, we'll find better ones for him.

"Can I at least have a couple bites of the 'last of the goddamn cereal' before it's gone?" I ask lazily. I'm still basically half asleep, and I've been extremely sleep deprived. Brendon nods and hands the bowl over. The cereal isn't even that good, it's Frosted Flakes. I make it through about five bites before I realize I've almost eaten it all. "Sorry," I mumble and pass it back to Brendon. When I hand it back over, I shift my sitting position so that I'm properly sitting on the couch. Brendon mumbles back a "s'okay" and finishes the last couple of bites. And I'm so tired. So so so tired. Brendon leans his head back against the couch, and I don't stop my head as it falls to rest on his shoulder. Brendon doesn't move in the slightest bit, so I take it as an invitation to continue on. 

We're both snoring before we realize what hit us. 

Then we're woken up by some light shaking. It's Spencer, and although he looks tired, he looks to be feeling a bit better-off than the rest of us. 

"Time to do some recording. Ryan I hope you've finished the songs, cause now it's time to finish everything," Spence tells us as we shake the sleep from our bodies. I look over, despite being watched by Spence, and grin at Brendon. He returns the grin and laughs slightly. 

"I guess we're as ready as we'll ever be." Brendon's voice is still filled with sleep when he answers Spence. He stretches his arms up as he stands, exposing his lower stomach, and suddenly I'm no longer tired. He holds his hand out to help me up, and I graciously accept, pulling myself off the couch.

"Is Brent ready to give it a try?" I ask Spence. He's usually the one who talks to Brent. I'm not very sure how, but Spence...he really knows what to tell people. I can only wish that I had his ability to know what to say at any given moment.

"As ready as  _he'll_  ever be. Which is probably not very ready. So Brendon, be prepared". And with that, we head into the studio connected to the apartment. Two more weeks of recording follows.

***

  _"Well boys, it's officially done. You guys recorded the whole album, now all that's left is the technical stuff, which we can leave that to the guys I sent there. Also, I love the artwork, that's an interesting theme. Heard the photo shoot went okay. The before and after recording pictures are the best. But the picture you used for the album is pretty decent. Gotta hand it to you guys. Should be smooth sailing from here on out. You guys can take a break. Unfortunately that break can only last for about a week or so, because you have your first live show in about two weeks. Then, well a big surprise that I'll let you all know at the party tonight! Love you guys! See you at the place!"_

 _The place. Way to be specific Pete._ None of us are really in the mood to party, but Pete insisted that we all join him at this club to celebrate. I've never really been a fan of parties. I'm a fan of drinking, but the party that usually comes with it? No. But this is Pete Wentz, and what he says goes. 

So about two hours later the whole band is packed into the same black SUV that took us to our apartment/studio, and heading to Pete's club. It's about a thirty minute drive, and this time I'm sitting next to Brendon. Not much talking is done, save for a little small talk. We're all exhausted still, and there's not much to talk about. We've spent the last three months together in close quarters. Too much arguing to be healthy, and excessive amounts of swearing. 

We arrive at this night club, which from the outside doesn't appear to be open, but Pete told us to head straight in, so we're left to wonder. Though the moment we enter, the club is clearly not empty. 

There's way too many people in here for it to be safe. And most all of the people seem to be very much older and drunker than we are. Of course, though, we don't get a moments break before everything stops and the spotlights shine on us. I hold my hand in front of my eyes to spot what all is going on. 

"Ladies and Gentleman! I present to you, drumroll please," a loud sound of clapping and various pounding noises follow, "Panic! at the Disco! Who just finished recording their very first album, A Fever You Can't Sweat Out! Let's take a moment to congratulate the young bouncing baby boys!" Leave it to Pete to have us make an entrance when we all look like we'd rather be sleeping. A thunderous applause follows, and my head pounds.  _I need a drink._

We all make our way towards Pete, who motioned us over after his announcement. I grab the nearest drink offered to me and down it. Weird looks are sent my way, but I find that I don't care at this point. As if underage drinking is really a huge concern in this industry.

Finally when we push our way through the crowd to Pete he's with- _fucking hell-_  he's with Fall Out Boy. All of them. They're here. They're at a party for us. Patrick, Joe, Andy, and Pete. They're all fucking here and standing in front of us. Patrick seems to be the most sober out of everyone in the club, apparently he's driving tonight. Or that's what he tried to tell me over the music blasting from the speakers. Everyone in our band has gone their separate ways, leaving me here to speak to Patrick. I tell him about how much I listened to their music, and he tells me that he's glad that I did. We don't talk about much, but he's extremely kind with the way he answers questions. I've probably annoyed the hell out of him, but he takes it in stride. But after about fifteen minutes he's dragged away by Joe. Before leaving he tells me that he hopes he gets a signed copy of our album and I nod eagerly.  _Patrick Stump wants to have a signed copy of our album. I just spoke to Patrick Stump._

A hand lands on my shoulder and it takes up most of what's there. I look up to see an extremely tall man accompanied by Pete. Both seem to be the party type, yet not able to handle alcohol very well. 

"I'm Gabe. Gabe Saporta. I'm friends with Pete here. And I know you. You're Ryan Ross. Pete talks about you a lot. Says you're pretty cool-" he bends down to get closer to my ear, "-if you know what I mean". He straightens up quickly and lets out a loud laugh. Then he ruffles my hair, which thankfully was washed earlier today. "Wow, that's some really soft hair dude". Then he's gone. I think he's starting a conga line. But Pete is still where he was before Gabe left. He seems a bit drunk, and I open my mouth to speak to him, but something-or rather someone- catches my eye. It's Brendon. And he's dancing. Not alone though, but with about five other girls. They're all over him, and he seems way to into it for him to be joking. It's not exactly clean dancing either. Now I know I have nothing to be jealous over, but that damn impulse control that always seems to fade the moment a bottle has graced my lips, that control is slipping. 

I'm not sure which one of us starts it, but I begin to walk towards Pete, who, is currently on his maybe tenth drink. And he walks towards me, a grin on his face. I think I've had too much to drink. I ruffle up my hair, hoping to make it look like a curly mess. A curly 'distracting' mess. The people around me jostle me closer to Pete. I'm not thinking straight as I grab his arm, pulling him out of the giant grinding mess. I'm not thinking as I pull him past a very confused looking Brendon, who seems to have stopped his 'dirty dancing'. I'm not thinking, and apparently neither is Pete, as he takes control and pulls me into a rough kiss. 

Both of us are completely hammered and probably wouldn't do this under normal circumstances. I didn't even think Pete swung this way, even in the least bit. We're not exactly in private, but no one, save for Brendon, saw us moving to the edge of the crowd. Pete's hands run through my hair roughly and his mouth opens up further, allowing me to explore it with my tongue.  _Yep, totally hammered._ He mumbles something, which breaks the sloppy kiss. 

"Huh?" I ask, leaning back towards his mouth my eyes closed. 

"Your hair is soft. Gabe. He was right". He pulls me back in for another kiss, this one less sloppy, but still not my best. Probably not his either. We stand there for a while, exchanging low moans until Pete pushes me up against a wall. He gets a bit rougher, but I go along with it, too drunk to let that impulse control get in the way. My hands find their way to his shoulders and dig into them a little tighter than normal. 

And for some dumb fucking reason I open my eyes at that moment. Brendon is staring directly at me from the edge of the crowd. His face, which usually is unreadable, is a mixture of emotions. Hurt, being the most obvious of them all, followed by anger. I'm not sure how I feel. He said 'I guess', when I asked to be just friends. He doesn't care, shouldn't care what I do in my free time. Much less who I kiss. It's Pete Wentz for crying out loud, who wouldn't kiss him, had they been given the chance. 

But I've gone still and Pete has seemed to notice this, through his drunken stupor. 

"Ross, you okay?" he asks, a little slurred, but still able to form coherent sentences. 

"No," I pause pulling my arms from his shoulders. "Gonna. Throw up". He lets go immediately, his face falling. "Not you. Just too much to drink". It's all I can manage before I rush to the bathroom near us. There's a couple making out in front of one of the bathrooms, thankfully it's not the men's one. I slam open the doors, and find a stall quickly before I empty my stomach contents once again. 

I've managed to fuck up yet again. Let's just hope no one remembers the bad parts about tonight when we all wake up tomorrow morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ****disclaimer: Ryan may or may not have done anything with Pete, but in an interview (if I can ever find it ill add the link) he said, while they didn't have sex, they came close to it and among other things. So that's what the end of this chapter is part of.


	8. The Start of Tour Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys are thrown into a lot. They have their own first show, with some surprise guests, and they sign on for their first tour. Which just happens to be Fall Out Boy's Nintendo Fusion Tour, along with Motion City Soundtrack, Boys Night Out, and the Starting Line. 
> 
> Check the end notes pls!

I was dragged from the club by Spencer. He managed to find me standing outside by the curb and haul me into the SUV waiting for us. I think Brendon sits across from me, not very sure, I'm still pretty slammed and everything is funny now. 

So the moment Brendon, I think, sends a glare across the small space at me, I crack up. Spence covers my mouth with his hand telling me to shut up, but I push it aside clumsily. When he goes to take hold of my wrist, probably to hold them still, I fall towards him, draping myself across the seat. I laugh even more, because, like I said, everything is hilarious. But apparently I'm the only one who thinks it's funny. Spencer attempts to cover my mouth again, so I lick his hand, which he promptly wipes on my face. 

I'm in the middle of reaching up to mess with Spencer's hair when I feel a sharp pain in my side. 

"Shit," I stumble out, clutching my side. "Hey, that wasn't very funny Bren," comes another drunken reply. I think this comment is supposed to be aimed at Brendon, because he was the one who kicked me right? And I did just say his name right? 

"Ryan, you're a sloppy drunk," is the only reply I receive. Whether it's from Brendon or Spence, I don't have time to decipher before I feel something rise in the back of my throat. "Ryan Ross, I swear to god if you vomit again-"  _Too late._

***

It's completely dark when I wake up. I feel around and it seems I'm lying in a bed, I hope it's my own. My hand ventures further across the bed and I feel something warm. I poke it, assuming it's another person. Whoever it is stirs and I feel an arm fall down across my chest. 

"Who the fuck?" I whisper, pushing the arm off and to the side. Slowly, I pull myself into a sitting position, trying to get my eyes to adjust to the darkness. My head is pounding and it feels like forever until my eyes adjust. But my hair falls in my face, and I try to force it out of the way. It's a tangled curly mess. But it's out of my eyes, at least enough for me to see glasses.  _Red fucking glasses._

I've fallen asleep in the same bed as Brendon Urie again. But only this time I'm completely unsure of where we're at. This time I decide to roll with it. I've got a headache, and I'd really rather be sleeping. So I lay back down and pull his arm back across my chest. 

I dream of dark hair and mocha eyes, those eyes obstructed by red rimmed glasses. I dream of abundant, but slightly translucent freckles and full, perfect lips. I dream of the most perfect sounding voice in all of the universe, singing the songs I wrote. Turning my words into art rather than a huge ‘fuck you’ to the world. I didn’t mean to dream of all this. It just happens.   

When I wake again, I'm alone in the bed, and it turns out it is my own, at least to an extent. I look to my left and see a hotel pen and paper pad, some cheap place.  _How did we get to a hotel? Why not our studio? And what in the hell happened last night?_

All these questions float around in my head, which still hurts, and then Spencer walks in carrying what looks like aspirin and orange juice.  _Thank you Spencer Smith._

"Do I even want to know what happened last night?" I ask and he shakes his head handing me the items in his hands. When I go to down them I notice I'm not wearing the shirt I left the studio in. I motion to the shirt and raise an eyebrow at Spence. Before he can reply Brendon saunters in and leans against the door frame. My face heats up involuntarily at the thought of my dream, but extinguishes immediately when Brendon opens his mouth.

"You vomited all over yourself, all over the car, and all over us. It seems to me you honestly can't handle your liquor or your choices made while drunk". Yeah, the warmth is gone quickly.  

"You would know all about bad choices, wouldn't you Brendon?" I snap back and Spencer lets out a loud sigh. 

"I'm gonna let you ladies settle this, because honestly, I can't deal with all the arguing between you to, and the petty fights". That's all he says, more or less in an exasperated manner before folding his arms and walking out, pushing past Brendon in the doorway. 

"You're really gonna talk to me about bad choices Ryan? You fucking made out with Pete Wentz! The guy who signed us! Both of you were drunk and you stared right at me the whole time. Do you even remember that?" Brendon hisses as he makes his way to stand in front of me. 

"Yeah I do remember! And I will talk to you about choices! You danced with all those nasty people just to spite me! You slept with Audrey just to spite me!" This time I'm the one who's practically yelling. Brendon groans and runs his hands through his hair, dragging them back down his face, unsettling his glasses in the process. 

"Do you honestly think I do anything I do for you? I can make my decisions based on what I want. Why should you care Ross? We’re not dating. You don’t matter to me like that. You’ve made that abundantly clear-” I go to cut him off, hoping to explain that’s not what I meant, even though I’d be lying to myself. But he holds up a hand and continues on, “-And I slept with  _my girlfriend_ because, for once, you were right. She is hot. It happened because I wanted it to, not because I was thinking of you. Spiteful sex isn't really my forte Ryan. And yes! I danced with those 'nasty' people because it was fun! And that's what you do at clubs! Not make out with Pete Wentz! Who do I need to mention, isn't even gay! So no Ryan. Don't speak to me about choices until you grow up and face yours." With that he storms out of the bedroom. And I wish I could argue with him further, but.... he's right. Brendon 'Once a Mormon' Urie is more mature than me and now I know that. I think I'm going to hold off on the drinking for a while. 

It takes me a while but I'm up out of the hotel bed and heading into the living area where the rest of the band is sitting. This hotel doesn't seem half bad, and I'm still confused as to why we're in one. As I make my way over to them I notice they're all watching the TV. They shush me before I even open my mouth. 

"MTV awards. They're on," comes Spencer's explanation. I look at the TV and the awards haven't even started yet. They're doing interviews. And right now they're interviewing, Pete? How did he get there in one night? He looks tired as hell and definitely hung over, but he acts accordingly. Answering all the questions about the band, and their plans for the future. The interviewer asks how his label is coming along and we all freeze.

"Yeah it's going great actually! I signed this band, Panic! At the Disco. They're pretty new, but they just finished their first ever album, A Fever You Can't Sweat Out. It's dropping September 27th, so everyone should go buy it of course. Because if I signed them, they must be good," he trails off laughing at the last part and suddenly I'm worried he actually remembers what all went down last night. But the interviewer changes subjects and I allow my nerves to settle. 

Now that that's over the band faces me, well at least a fourth of the band. Spencer that is. 

"Why are we in this hotel?" I ask quietly, holding my other arm at the elbow. I feel awkward and ashamed standing in front of them. Like I’m the problem child in the family, still loved, just not everyone’s first thought.

"You really don't remember a thing do you?" Spence replies quietly shaking his head.

"Umm, no? I guess not," my voice is almost inaudible. There's too many people in this room. I don’t want to be in this room. They look at me like I look at my father and my face is a blazing inferno. Everything feels too hot and the stares from Brent and Brendon as they turn to face me make this extremely unbearable.

"We would've gone to the studio but we figured it would just be easier to stop here and then head to the airport from here cause its closer. We swung by the studio apartment to grab everything, you laughed the whole time and began singing horridly throwing your clothes everywhere. You hung off of every one of us whenever we got within five feet of you, claiming you loved us all very dearly. Then on the ride over here you tried to crawl on top of the car through the sunroof. When we tried grabbing you, you bit my hand and kicked Brent in the face. When we finally got here you wouldn't settle down because you kept yelling that you would only sleep if Brendon was there for some godforsaken reason. You threw up some more. That's when we had to change your shirt. Then you fell asleep the moment your head hit the pillow. So that's what happened last night".

The only thing I got from Spencer's explanation was that apparently my intoxicated brain decided to betray me.  _Refusing to calm down until Brendon slept with you? Fucking ‘A1’ job right there Ross._

"Oh". It was the only response I could think of. 

"’Oh’ is right. Jesus Ryan, what all did you drink last night?" 

"A lot. I'm not really sure, I just drank whatever was offered to me and some other stuff. I just wanted to have fun". It's a lame ass explanation and I know Spence doesn't really want to hear it right now. "Sorry I acted like that I guess". Before they can answer I head back to the beds. Sleeping sounds like a much better plan.

***

The plane ride back to Vegas was not as eventful as our trip here and considerably less amounts of alcohol consumed. The camera crew was sure to get some shots of us before we got on the plane. Most of us were still hungover and the two aspirin Spence had brought me were not helping at all. So sunglasses and immense amounts of water would have to do. 

I'm still sitting next to Brendon on the plane, which is an extremely surprising fact. I thought for sure he would be the last person to want to be near me. He sits beside me without a word and then we take off. 

 "Sorry for the whole thing last night. I didn't know I was doing any of that stuff. And I'm sorry I had to bring you into it. And I’m also really sorry for saying that stuff back in the hotel room-" He raises an eyebrow questioningly, “-The whole thing about choices”. My voice is shaky, and I blame it on my nerves from flying. Brendon looks at me for a moment, a blank expression on his face, but it lightens up a little and he breaks into soft smile. 

"Thank you for apologizing. You don't do it often enough you know," he mumbles in a light tone. I know he's joking, but there's a serious suggestion behind it. I take this into consideration.

"Contrary to popular belief, I don't enjoy being an asshole,"I mumble. It's just my natural reaction to most things, and being around Brendon for too long usually brings that out of me. He knows how to get under my skin, whether it be in a good or bad way, he just does. "I'm taking a suggestion into consideration. Trying to grow up a little". He smiles at that. It’s not one of his full blown Cheshire grins, but it’s a start. I've made him smile again.  _I can't stay angry at him._

"This person who suggested the advice you’re taking, they seem to be wise, I'm glad you're taking them into consideration," Brendon voices quietly. 

"Yeah, I kind of got tired of arguing with them over stupid things". The grin widens a little and I feel myself beginning to form a smile. 

He looks away for a moment, breaking the shared smiles. I run my hand through my hair, hoping to ruffle it up a little, make it look less gross I guess.

"What's your favorite color?" he asks suddenly, turning to face me again. 

"Didn't you already ask me?" I reply thinking back to one of our first conversations. His glasses had kept slipping down his nose and the whole time I had wanted to fix them. Just like I want to right now. But I can't ruin whatever moment we have going on here, so I keep my hands idle and by my side.  

"I like talking to you. Contrary to popular belief, I to, don't enjoy being an asshole. I think we argue over stupid things. Not like saying this is going to stop it, just wanted to clarify". He finally pushes his glasses back upwards. "Aubergine still your favorite?”

"You remember?"  _Of course he remembers, it's not like its anything special Ross._

"Of course," he pauses to run his hands through his hair. "Why?”

"Why what?"

"Why is it your favorite color?" A grin follows the question. He's always way too happy. Happy and hyper.

"Okay, this is gonna sound stupid and girly, so you gotta promise not to laugh," my voice is a mumble and I feel the fire creep up my face. It's not even that embarrassing, but just telling another person things about me makes me nervous. I always think they'll find me immensely boring. A useless kid who reads Rimbaud and can kind of play the guitar. Born and raised in Vegas with a mother who couldn't even stay till the kid's first birthday and a father who couldn't stand the sight of him. Unexciting. Typical. Nothing more than a laughing matter. That's what Ryan Ross was. 

"Hey, dude, you okay there? Seemed to zone out for a second," it's Brendon. He's waving a hand in front of my face.  _What the fuck Ross?_

"Yeah, okay so anyways, you have to promise not to laugh". He nods, suddenly serious, but only for about a millisecond, because then he's covering his mouth trying to stifle the laughter. "I'm serious, you asshole". He pulls his hand away from his mouth and holds out his hand, pinky sticking up. 

"Pinky swear? How old are we Brendon?"

"Hey, you're the one who made me promise. And I don't break pinky swears. Ever." He crosses his hand across his heart, but he's still grinning. I hold out my pinky, and his curls around mine. "See, I pinky swore. Which I think is a bit much for you to tell me why your favorite color is your favorite color". But Brendon grins even more. He certainly thinks he's hilarious. 

"Fine, fine. It's probably not as dramatic as I'm making it seem," he raises an eyebrow at this. I try to ignore the fact that our pinkies are still linked. "My favorite book is called Invisible Monsters. It's by Chuck Palahniuk, and one of our songs, Time to Dance it loosely based off the book. But when I first read the book the one thing that kept popping up was the word 'Aubergine'. So I looked it up. Turns out it was a color, and I thought it was a pretty cool 'purpley' color. And it's just been my favorite ever since. No one ever really asked me what my favorite color was, or other things like that. So it was kind of just an answer to give, but it turns out I actually liked it". 

"That's a complicated answer for such an uncomplicated question," is Brendon's only reply. 

"I'm a complicated dude," I answer, pulling my hand away from his and stretching. 

"Got that right".

"What's that supposed to mean Urie?"

"I'm sorry, can't hear you Ross, I'm slowly drifting asleep to avoid this oncoming argument. You're breaking up. I'll. Call. You. Later." Brendon says lazily, but with a break of pretend static noises between each word. 

"Asshole. Whatever I was gonna sleep anyways". The only response I get is a mumbled "Uhmm". I look over to see Brendon closing his eyes and resting his head against the back of his seat. His glasses are about to fall off the tip of his nose.  _Why can't those damn things stay where they're supposed to be? It's like they're mocking me._

They really always are mocking me. What would it hurt if I were to just fix them?

I reach my hand over and pull them off his damn face. Not sure where to put them, I hold them. When I turn to face him again, just so I can lean my head on the seat, of course, I thought I caught the ghost of a smile. But it's gone before I can blink again.

Turns out my eyelids are much heavier than I had originally thought and I feel myself slowly drifting asleep. I don't have the willpower to stop my head from falling to rest on Brendon's shoulder. Or at least that's what I try to convince myself. 

***

Getting back to Brendon and I’s apartment after the plane ride had been a bit blurry for me. We were all very tired and we got in pretty late, well early in the morning kind of late, around three am. The most I can remember is all four of us stumbling in through the apartment door and nearly falling asleep before making it to wherever we were supposed to sleep tonight. Brendon had rested his head on my shoulder the whole ride from the airport to the apartment and had I rested my head on Spencer's shoulder. It was the three of us in the middle seat while Brent had ridden shotgun. 

And that's how I ended up here, in Brendon's bed along with Brendon and Spencer. Somehow all three of us had managed to fall asleep halfway on the bed and halfway off. My phone has been ringing non-stop and I've tried to ignore it, but I keep getting shoved by Spencer, which I think means that I should probably answer it. 

" _So, when did you get back?"_  It's Jac. Of course it's Jac. It's kind of crazy how she calls at all the worst times. Even if three in the afternoon is an acceptable time. Because that is apparently the time right now. This is the most sleep I've gotten in years. 

"I don't know. Sometime this morning I guess. What is it babe?" My voice is still sleep filled and I roll over off the bed so I don't disturb the others. I wipe the sleep off my face and head out of the bedroom. Our luggage is strewn across the living room, still in the suitcases, but it's still a mess. Kicking past them I sit on the couch listening to Jac drone on. I realize I've missed half of what she was saying. "I'm sorry, what were you saying?"

_"Is Brendon there or something?"_

 "What is that supposed to mean?"  _What does Brendon have anything to do with my not responding?_

_"You're always so distracted when he's with you. That's all I was saying Ryan."_

"Mhmm"

 _"Anyways, I was saying I missed you. Well more than just yourself. I’ve waited a long time for you to get back Ryan. It's been hard without you."_ I'm too tired to read into anything she's saying. Or to even respond politely. 

"You want me to come over to fuck. Is that what you're saying? You missed the sex?" My reply is exasperated and I really would rather go back to sleep.

_"Way to be straightforward. But yes. Can you be here in fifteen?"_

"Give me twenty," I hang up the phone without a response. It takes around ten minutes to get to her apartment and for about nine out of those ten minutes I'm regretting my decision to even agree to this. It's not like having sex with Jac is bad, because I still can't fathom how she's with me. She's just boring, and even though I've only had sex with her, I feel like it's just that. Sex. No meaning behind it, no passion, no anything. I shouldn't even be complaining because most people would kill to be sleeping with Jac. People message me on livejournal all the time saying how they don't understand that Jac is with some 'greasy, skinny, white boy' like me. Usually I reply back with 'me neither'. So, it's not like I hate the fact that I'm having sex with Jac, it's nice, but it's not necessarily the highlight of my life so far. 

That one minute I didn't spend regretting this decision, was spent drooling over Jac as she greeted me at the door. Naked. Needless to say that was a very nice minute. That along with another hour after she pulled me inside. Those sixty one minutes were some pretty damn great minutes. 

The drive back to the apartment was better though. I stopped and bought some ice cream for Brendon and I. Rocky Road. 

***

"Hey, dude, would you want to go out and see a movie or something?" Brendon is sitting next to me on the couch. I gave him my copy of  _Invisible Monsters_ to read and he hasn't set it down since his eyes graced the pages. I'm checking livejournal comments because our single ‘I Write Sins, Not Tragedies’ released a couple days ago and a surprising amount of people saw it, or heard it. We've got Pete to thank for that. He's been shouting us out every chance he gets, promoting everything. All that had to happen was my drunk ass sucking off his drunk ass at that party he threw for us. I'm not even sure if he quite remembers the whole thing, but I do. The band thinks I don't remember that night, but I do. I remember every second of it. I remember seeing Brendon dancing with the group of sweaty women. I remember drunkenly grabbing Pete. Kissing him. Throwing up. Coming back to the crowd to see Brendon again, kissing one of the girls. Grabbing Pete again. Leading him into the VIP section. Asking him to help us get big. Telling him how much their band meant to me. Him drunkenly kissing me. Pete telling me that he needed payment. Me offering my services. His accepting. Him promising not to say a thing. Me promising the same and then stumbling out of the club. It was a wild night filled with too many emotions for me to even recall what I was thinking. Drinking does that to you. That’s why, usually, I don’t drink. Or at least I hadn’t in a very long time.

"Ryan?" It's Brendon again. Looking up from the book he seems to look at me with a genuine concern. 

"Yeah, sorry. I, uh, was thinking of which movie we could watch. Is this another 'bro date'?"

"Yes of course. The 'bro dates' are the best kind. Speaking of dates, how's Jac?" Brendon does air quotes around the 'bro date' part, which earns a small laugh out of me. But when he mentions Jac I frown.

"I uh, went there earlier today. It was alright. She's fine. Said she missed me while we were gone," my tone is bored and flat. I'd rather not be talking about Jac.

"Oh," it's a surprised oh. He looks away so I can't see his face. "I didn't hear you leave or come back".

"If you didn't want to hear me talk about Jac, why did you ask?" I might sound more annoyed than I am, but my question rings true. He obviously doesn't really like when I talk about Jac, never really has, so his asking about it, then silence, is a bit annoying. 

"Figured I'd be polite I guess," he seems to trail off as he turns his head back to face me. 

"Well, thanks for asking I guess. How's Audrey?" Now it's my turn to be 'polite'.

"Good. Good, yeah. Not really much to say. She texted me and said that she was coming on a tour, if we did one, whether I liked it or not. I don't really want her to, but she's hot. It could be fun," he trails off again. His eyes roam over my face, not in any way, just looking to gauge my reaction I guess.

"This is awkward".

"Yeah. So a movie it is then?" he agrees then asks. Brendon is standing and offering his hand to me before I can even answer yes. Though it's not like I would've said no. 

"Let me grab a jacket. What movie were you thinking of?" I answer, closing my laptop and accepting his hand. When I stand, I brush off my clothes, straighten them out.

"I thought you were thinking of movies?"  _Shit. I did say that, didn't I?_ I wrack my brain to see if I can remember any trailers on TV. I can only remember one.

"Umm, how about the new Harry Potter movie?" I try to pretend like I haven't read them. 

"The Goblet Of Fire?" I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding. 

"You like it then?" Brendon grins in response and makes his way to the door. I run in the bedroom and grab a coat hanging in our shared closet. I’m not exactly sure whose it is, but it fits.

When I walk back into the living room Brendon takes one look at me and laughs.

“What?” I question a bit defensively, crossing my arms across my chest.

“Nothing, s’just my coat you’re wearing. It’s just looks funny,” Brendon answers laughing slightly.

“If it looks funny why’d you buy it?” My voice sounds childish, just like my attempt at a comeback. Brendon ushers me out the door without answering. He’s got a tiny little shit eating grin on his face, but he doesn’t look at me until he closes and locks the door.

“I guess I don’t really have an answer for that,” he answers half laughing as we walk down the stairs and out of the apartment complex.   

Brendon and I are down the stairs and in his shitty van within seconds. It's freezing outside so we both rush to hop inside the car. He almost falls face first onto the frozen ground before we reach the van and both of us end up cracking up. We’re still laughing when we’re driving away because it feels good to laugh. We’ve all been stressed out during the entire recording session and the tension between the four of us was so thick someone could’ve cut it with a knife.

The amount of arguing that had gone on between the band, namely me and Brendon, had been ridiculous. It wasn’t that we fought about serious stuff, it was how often we had fought. Over stupid things. Someone would do something early in the day before the recording session, and the other person would try and fuck with them during recording time.

So sitting here in Brendon’s shitty van, laughing simply on the principle that we can laugh, is one of the things that I wish I could write a shitty song about. It’s one of those weird moments that you’ll remember forever, and will probably be in that montage of ‘less shitty’ moments in life that flash before your eyes before dying.

***

The parking is a bit farther away from the theater, so we have to walk a little ways. We walk along the sidewalk, shoulders bumping together as we laugh about stupid jokes one or the other tells. The town where we live is set up almost like one of those towns in the movies. Where all the shops are lined up side by side, and there's a 'main street'. Everything here has a touch of history in it. The brick buildings have been here since the 1800's, along with all the decorations apparently. But I loved it instantly. I've never quite grown tired of this town and the feeling of nostalgia it brings. Nostalgia from a time when I didn't even exist. When I wasn't even a thought. History is weird like that. Makes you miss things from when you didn’t exist.

Christmas lights are hung from lamppost to lamppost lining the main road. Tables and chairs sit in front of small bakeries and cafes, some taken up by people smoking, others seem to be set out of place, as if the people sitting there didn't feel the need to push them back in. It's just turned dark out, and the temperature has dropped significantly again. Most of the stores are closing up, the owners waving bye to one another as they head home to their husband or wife and their 'picket fence' life. 

I'm not paying attention apparently, because the next thing I know my weight has shifted forward and I'm falling towards the pavement. Then I'm throwing my arms behind me, hoping to grab onto something. Turns out Brendon wasn't paying attention either because when I grab ahold of his jacket sleeve, he catapults forward with me. We both hit the pavement hard but I take the brunt of it. Brendon mostly falls on top of me, so I take the impact of the fall. He's heavier than me, and his jacket hood is covering my face. His whole body is shaking and I tense thinking I've hurt him in some way. I push him off, which is a bit harder than I expected, and roll over to look at him. He's laughing. That shithead is laughing. 

He looks up at me and has to cover his mouth to hold in his laughter. I feel laughter forming and I try to choke it down, but it breaks through. I punch his arm and that's when one, or the both of us, snorts and we lose it again. I haven't laughed this much in my entire life, and it's all thanks to Brendon Urie. It's also then that I remember we have a movie to get to and we're both laying on the concrete, cracking up about falling down. This just makes me laugh harder, but I'm able to stand up and hold out my gloved hand. He accepts it with a grin, and only slight laughter, and manages to pull himself up. 

"Jesus Ross, you really have to start watching where you're going. I almost crushed you," Brendon jokes, lightly hitting my arm. I hit him back softly before responding.

"What did I even trip over?"

"Probably your own damn feet while you were staring into my eyes." I stumble again because he didn't just say that. 

"I don't stare into your eyes," I pout and cross my arms, though it looks a bit funny because my coat is so thick.

"You totally do Ross, don't even try and deny it," the current shithead says with a grin. 

"You wish Brendon," I mutter and walk faster to push past him. He grabs my shoulder before I can make it two steps and wheels me around to face him.

"I wasn't saying it to piss you off Ryan, calm down," he sounds sincere, but I'm still slightly angry and I shake his hand off. 

"Let's just go see this movie man". With that we walk beside each other in silence until the theater is in view. Brendon stops suddenly and opens his mouth to say something, to which I've already begun to sigh loudly at, because if he's really trying to argue about earlier, he's in for it. But two girls leaving the movie theater spot us and step towards us with hopeful looks in their eyes.  _What the fu-_

"You two are the guys from Panic! At The Disco right? Ryan and Brendon?" The taller girl asks. They both look to be around the same age as us and the taller girl has brown hair, a nice looking face, not like hot, but one of those girls who you can tell has never done a bad thing. And the shorter girl looks about the same except her hair is blonde. 

"Um yeah, we are. How did you guys recognize us?" Brendon is the first to find his voice and he smiles, looking completely at ease. That's the thing with Brendon, he's different when he's in front of people. You would never know he's been kicked out of his house. You would never know that he cried at the end of Moulin Rouge. You would never know that he had ever been sad in his life. He's all smiles and unbridled energy, and I’ll be dammed if I'm not glad for it. 

"We're Fall Out Boy fans and we saw Pete's promotions for you guys. So we looked you all up and there were some pictures from some photo shoots you guys did. They're uh..." she trails off, tapping her lip, thinking for a word, "interesting. Yeah, pretty interesting to say the least. But that's a good thing. Makes you guys different. Makes you guys likeable. Am I rambling? Because I can't believe this. We listened to that new song, and watched the video the day it came out, and we've memorized every lyric and now we're standing here talking to you guys and its crazy. But I'm gonna shut up now". The shorter girl interrupted the other and now she's just staring adoringly at Brendon.  _Yeah, I feel that._

"Wow that's actually pretty cool. Thank you guys, I'm glad you liked the song so much. And yeah, they were interesting, not really our choice, but they get the whole 'we're different from other emos' across. Couldn't have been more obvious if it was flashing in neon lights huh?" Brendon answers with a laugh near the end. 

"Uh, yeah, thank you guys. Means a lot," I mumble, not very sure how to speak to anyone without coming off as an asshole or pretentious or confused.

"Are you guys heading to the movies? Cause we won't hold you guys. We we're just gonna ask for a picture if that's okay?" The taller girl questions. She digs around in her purse, which I just noticed she was even carrying, and pulls out a Polaroid camera. 

"Yeah of course," Brendon and I both answer at the same time. 

"Could you guys like make a face or something, so that way if I look bad, it'll be on purpose?" This coming from the shorter girl as she stands between us. Both Brendon and I nod and make ridiculous faces and the flash goes off. My mind wonders to Invisible Monsters.  _Flash. Give me adoration._ I crack a grin at myself and Brendon gives me a questioning look. Then the taller girl asks for us to make peace signs, which we both comply to, and in the middle of the flash going off I fucking sneeze. Everyone except me begins to laugh, I'm still embarrassed that I completely ruined the picture. 

"I'm so sorry about that, we can totally take another one if you want-" the girl holds up her hand. 

"Oh no, don't worry about that. Normal pictures suck anyways. Thank you guys so much by the way! I'm Allison, and that's Jenny," the tall girl points at herself first and then at the other girl, who I now know is named Jenny. They hug us and wave goodbye, heading the way they were before spotting us. Both Brendon and I turn to face each other at the same time and he grins. I can't help but to grin back.

"It's only gonna get worse from here huh?" I mumble and run my hands through my hair. Brendon just grins wider, he always grins, and throws his arm over my shoulder as he moves to stand next to me. 

"Buddy, it's gonna be amazing. Now let's go watch your nerd movie," he replies with a laugh and a tug on my shoulders leading me towards the ticket line. 

The movie has just started as we sit down. Brendon insisted on sharing everything because we're short on funds until some of the music money comes in. We still manage to get decent seats in the upper back corner. No one is sitting around us which allows me to put my feet on the seat in front of me, which I notice Brendon does as well. We have a large popcorn, a box of m&ms and a large coke. One perk of getting here right as the movie starts is that we'll have popcorn through most of the movie rather than eating it all during the previews. 

As the movie progresses Brendon asks me multiple questions, mostly who is who and what in the hell is going on. Naturally his favorite people are the Weasley twins, Fred and George. Brendon leans over and whispered that he thinks I'm like Hermione because I think I know everything all the time. I shove popcorn in his mouth as my response. Which in turn makes him laugh, causing the popcorn to fall all over the floor and his shirt. 

During the scene were Harry and Cedric are both thrown through the portal opened by the goblet, Brendon does the fake yawn and begins to 'stretch' his arms. 

"Brendon Urie, I swear if you try-"

"Baby, baby, baby, I'm just stretching. Don't gotta worry about me," he can't even hold himself together. He begins to laugh, quietly albeit, but still rests his arm across my shoulders. 

"Call me baby again and you won't have an arm to do that with," I mutter, looking at him from the corner of my eyes before focusing on the movie again. "'Bro date' yeah, sure, okay". I say the last part barely loud enough for me to hear. But apparently he hears it because he turns his head to me and flashes a broad grin before ruffling my hair. He mostly succeeds in tangling it because it's still kind of long.  _That fucker. If he really wants to play that game I will._

The m&ms are held between his legs because there wasn't any space. So I reach over and down as far into the box as I can, and Brendon's eyes widen as he sucks in a loud breath. I pull out a small handful and hold them in front of his face. I lean in till my mouth brushes his ear and whisper, "Two can play at that game Brendon," before I lean back into my seat and pop the chocolate into my mouth. He releases the breath and turns to me, eyes still wide. I point to the screen with a shrug.

"You're missing the movie  _babe_ ," I whisper with a side grin and take a sip of the soda. It's kind of warm now but I pretend like I don't notice as I turn to face the movie again.

Brendon's finger rubs circles into my shoulder, I don't even think he knows hes doing it, and I pretend that I'm just going along with the charade. Because that's what this is. An act. This could never happen between us. 

The movie ends and I have to discreetly adjust my pants while Brendon is standing up and not facing me. I throw my coat on and grab our snacks as we walk down the stairs heading to the exits. When we exit the theater Brendon turns to me and laughs. 

"How was the movie in comparison to the book  _baby?"_   He asks. And I'm going to fight him. Right here and now. 

"Well,  _babe,_ it was a bit off, but it's what usually happens when books get made into movies. Not like you were paying attention to the movie. Too busy staring into  _my_ eyes  _babe?" Maybe he'll fight me._

"Ryan Ross, you really can be a bitch sometimes. Anyone ever told you that?" He asks me. He had been looking at the ground but he looked up and smiled at me and I just grin back. 

"Only for you  _baby_ ," I answer all pretend sweet. He laughs and knocks me on the arm, to which I return the favor. 

The walk back to the van is filled with mostly Brendon asking serious questions about the movie vs the book. He's pretty adorable when he asks anything. By the time we reach the car he's decided that, while he's not much of a reader and especially with ‘kids’ books, that he's going to read the Harry Potter books. I smile and lean back in my seat, watching the scenery fly by in the darkened window. 

***

"Ryan..." a nudge to my shoulder follows.” Ryan, wake up". Now my whole body is being shaken and I'm not very sure I like it. I roll over in my bed to see Spencer shaking me awake. He wasn’t even supposed to stay the night, but apparently my bed is more comfortable than his. Which is complete bs, but I’m not going to tell Spence he can’t stay the night when it’s been the other way around our entire lives basically.

"Dammit Spence it's like nine am, can't you let a guy sleep?" I mutter, wiping the sleep off my face. 

"Brendon is acting weird and he keeps talking about his parents. He's pacing around in the living room and I don't know much about parent problems. I need your help buddy," Spence looks worried for the first time in a long time. He always knows what to say. He's Spencer Smith. My best friend. The guy who has helped me through everything. 

"Hey, listen. Spence, I know you're worried. I know you always have something, or some way to shine light on a situation, but sometimes, you just won’t be able to. It's okay Spence. Go back to bed I got this," I reply as I sit up to face him. My hair is a curly mess and I don't really like it that much at this moment, especially if it continues to fall in my face while I'm trying to speak to a friend. Spencer nods solemnly and heads back to my bed. 

I climb out of mine slowly, trying in vain to manage my hair in the least bit, but there is no fixing bed head. Spencer was right. Brendon is actually pacing the living room. One hand is holding his sidekick to his ear and the other hand is on his hip. He keeps staring up at the ceiling and biting his lip. 

I walk up behind him and grab his shoulder lightly, turning him to face me. His eyes are red. He's been crying, or at least tearing up and my brain immediately goes to the worst possible scenario. One of his parents are dead. Both of them are. Someone is sick, someone is dying. Something horrible has happened. 

He just holds eye contact with me until he breathes a shaky, "Okay," into the phone and hangs up. I raise a concerned eyebrow and lead him to the couch. 

"My parents just called me," his voice is still shaky and soft. I wrap my arm around his shoulder for support. "They want to come to our first show," he trails off, lowering his face into his hands. A shaky sigh follows, and he rubs his face into his hands.

"Like the one we play in two days?" I whisper, leaning my head down so he can hear. 

"Yeah, that one. They told me that thinking I could drop out to focus on music was stupid and if I hadn’t finished school like I did, they would’ve disowned me rather than just kicking me out. And that the music had better be worth it. They didn't sound angry though, that's the thing. They just sounded tired and defeated, like they really didn't believe that I could do it. They asked for the details and then asked if they could come and I said yes, but I don't want them to come Ryan. I don't". His parents aren't the only ones who sound defeated. I rub my hand over his back until he nudges is off with a small grin. 

I'll never judge someone for feeling any emotions towards their parents. No matter what they feel or why. Because those are your parents, and your emotions, if they're valid to you, it matters. So even though I think Brendon might be overreacting a slight bit, I'll never tell him because he's entitled to be worried. No one in the world wishes they didn't have parents, or if they do, no one wishes they didn't care. 

"We'll play extra good for them Brendon. Don't worry," I whisper. Bumping his shoulder with mine, I look over and grin, hoping to lift him out of the dumps a little. 

"So long as your hair doesn't get in the way of your playing Ross," he manages to shoot back. But it lacks any bite and he just ends up laughing quietly and bumping my shoulder with his. 

***

Our very first official show as Panic! At The Disco is at this music venue called 'The Alley' on West Charleston. Most local bands play there, but they asked us to perform, and it's not like we're in the business to turn down gigs. 

We sit backstage, Brendon wearing tight fitting black pants and a black collared shirt, tucked in. Spence is wearing a polo shirt, jeans and some kind of jacket with fancy lettering on it. Brent is wearing a button down collared shirt like Brendon, tucked into black pants, though his aren't tight fitting, thankfully. I'm wearing the same thing as Brendon except my legs, which are toothpick thin, don't really make the pants look nice. They just look really baggy and they make me look skinnier than I am. 

The venue sold out apparently. And we all couldn't believe it. Everyone here came to see us. They sold out the venue to see us. Four boys from Vegas. It's amazing. What started as Pet Salamander, became unnamed, then became Panic!, then we recorded and shot a video, and now we're on TV. All four of us are on MTV. And now we are about to play our first show and it's sold out. It's not a huge venue, but to think that many people came to see us, is... it's one of the best feelings in the world. 

That doesn't stop me from being nervous as hell. Or any of us for that matter. Everyone except for Brendon is sitting with their heads in their hands, staring down at the ground, fidgeting. But Brendon's antics don't mean he isn't nervous. I’ve learned that. He moves around more when he's nervous, he bounces on his feet, paces, chews on his lips, taps his fingers on anything, and runs his hands through his hair so much I think he'll be bald soon. 

He's staring at me with a look of fear and nervousness in his eyes. Just tapping his foot away, hand at his mouth, running across his lower lip. I want to make him feel better. I know that look and I desperately wish I could take it off his face. I stand up quickly and without thinking walk over and pull him into the dressing room. Spence and Brent don't even spare us a second glance. I push him up against the nearest wall and stare directly into his eyes. They're searching my face, still filled with the look of fear. 

"Brendon," I whisper, my hand gripping the back of his neck. My other hand rests on his shoulder, trying to hold him into place. 

"Ryan," he answers. His voice is shaky and all he said was one word. 

"Can you do this? Cause we really need you here man. You're the front man, without you I'd have to sing, and we all know that would probably get us thrown out of here and our band would quickly end. Pretty short lived career," the last part comes out with a laugh. I hope he can't tell I'm just as nervous as him. But I have to be brave enough for the both of us in this moment.

"This is what I've always wanted to do Ryan. It's all I've ever wanted, it to perform and have people love it. It's just the people who mean the most to me are going to be the only people who probably don't love it," he breaks off, glancing at the ground. He opens his mouth to say something, but he stills and closes it, staring down again. I remove my hand from the back of his neck and push his chin up till he's looking at me.

"So go out there and do what you love Brendon. If your parents don't love you for that, they don't deserve you Brendon. You realize that? Parents are supposed to be there for you no matter what. That's what they signed up for when they decided to have you. Whether or not you're what they expected, they are supposed to love you unconditionally," my voice breaks and I try to hold it together.  _Give parental advice when you're the kid with no parents. I'm sure that looks fantastic._ "So to hell with them if they don't love what you're doing Brendon. If it makes you happy, it should make them happy, or at least happy for you. So go out there and do it for yourself, and the rest should follow". His eyes have been staring at mine the whole time, and gradually they grow less worrisome. 

Brendon doesn't answer, but pulls me in to his arms and hugs me tighter than I can handle. His face is buried in the crevice between my shoulder and head, and he just stands there for a few moments breathing quietly. I'm not sure I'll ever get used to hugs, I don't know why people give them all the time. After what seems like five minutes he pulls back and holds me at arm’s length, as if I'm a little kid even though I'm taller. Brendon gives me a once over and grins. 

"We're going to have to do something about that hair huh?" He laughs and let’s go of my arms. 

"Oh what, and you're gonna do it?" I joke, knocking him in the shoulder. 

"Well yeah, remember, I can cut hair". And he has to be joking, because, Brendon Urie, cutting someone else's hair, when his looks like that? 

"You're joking right? You've seen your hair right?" I laugh out loud and knock him in the shoulder again, but he's not laughing. "You're gonna cut my hair?"

"Why not?" He's beginning to get defensive now, crossing his arms over his chest. 

"Okay," he meets my eyes with a look of surprise, "Yeah, you can cut my hair Brendon. But if you fuck it up, I swear-" I'm forced to stop talking as he pecks me on the cheek and runs out of the dressing room. I'm left standing there in the dressing room, holding my cheek with a stupid grin on my face. It takes me a couple of seconds before I realize that we're playing a show. I have to be out there and ready. My newsboy hat is hanging off a peg on the backside of the door and I throw it on as I quickly exit the dressing room.

I make it out of the dressing room and directly to the side of the stage just in time. I'm handed my guitar and the rest of the band is standing around holding their instruments, well except for Spencer. No one really looks nervous, mostly just surprised like the fact that we're playing our first live show hasn't hit them yet. Spencer looks like he’s able to hold his composure a bit better than the rest of us. He glances over to me and grins, I grin back despite the sinking feeling in my stomach. Everyone here is going to hear the words I wrote. It's easier pretending I don't know about anyone listening to any of the demos, or our new single. But now I have to see them see me. They'll hate the songs, they'll hate my writing, call me pretentious, call me 'fake deep' and I won't be able to do anything about it. 

Then all of a sudden we're being pushed out on stage and the tiny crowd roars to life. I don't even know what they're saying, it's all just loud nonsensical screaming, just to be louder than the people around you. It’s surprising because, despite this being our ‘first show’ the crowd seems to be into it.

We're all standing in front of our mics and Spence is behind his drums and he doesn't even give me a second to rein in my terror before tapping his drumsticks together to start off the beginning of The Only Difference. And then we're playing, we're all playing and Brendon is singing and somehow we haven't fucked up yet and my brain is on autopilot. Brendon is looking over at me searching desperately for something and then I realize what part of the song we're at. In about ten seconds I have to play the keyboard part, and I'm still standing on the other side of the stage. Cameras are flashing all over the place, some from our camera crew and some from the audience. 

I make it to the keyboard just as Spence taps his sticks together to count off the start of the techno-board part. It's played seamlessly and I'm not sure how because my fingers have felt like weighted lead since we were thrust on stage. 

The crowd shouts the lyrics of our only single back to Brendon, whose voice has cracked a couple of times, but he doesn't falter. Brent has screwed up multiple times, but it's not very noticeable. But the band notices, and we all have to cover it up. I don't understand why Brent even decided to show up to anything, Brendon recorded all the bass on the album, and Brent just sat back and watched because he never properly learned how to play the damn songs.

We make it through the rest of the set seamlessly and I find out that Brendon sweats profusely on stage. He's soaked through his shirt and his hair looks like he's just showered. It's kind of funny actually, I never knew someone could sweat that much, I hardly sweat at all. We all stand together in a line, arms around each other's shoulders and bow. The crowd goes wild, screaming, chanting 'Panic, Panic' as we walk off stage.

We're all grinning and patting each other’s backs and the photographers are taking ridiculous amounts of pictures. Then this feeling hits, a sudden rush of joy and euphoria and I've never been so excited than during this moment because now it's official, we've just played our first show as a band together and everything went perfectly, and I'm doing this with people I want to, and it's everything anyone could've ever wished for when they have hopes of starting a band.

We're ushered back on stage quickly to do an encore. Apparently the crowd has been chanting it this whole time, drowning out every sound. We only sang about seven of our songs, because this wasn’t a show _show._ So we walk back out on stage and sing our last song on the album, Build God, Then We’ll Talk.

Our last words are "Make sure to buy our album coming out September 27th later this month!" before we rush off stage. 

***

Most of the crowd has dispersed, a couple of already devoted fans stayed behind in hopes of meeting us and asking us to sign things. A few people stayed so they could tell us how much they thought we sucked and that we we're rip offs. We just shrugged and told them we were glad they wasted their money on us. Usually they followed up with a 'fuck off' and we laughed until they walked away in bitter moods. 

A lot of the people who stayed behind were girls about our age and slightly younger. Most of them gush over Brendon telling him that if he wasn't dating Audrey they would be 'all over that'. They tell him how nice he looked in the Sins music video, and how they wished they could've been extras. He laughs and tells them all that he's glad to know at least someone appreciates him. We sign their tickets and take pictures with them and just as everyone is about to leave I hear someone behind us say, "Gonna leave before your own parents get to see you Brendon?" 

Brendon freezes, in fact all of us freeze. The smile falls from his face and he turns around, I follow suit. Spencer and Brent say their goodbyes and head back to the dressing room. Spence shoots me a 'dude why aren't you coming?' look before he makes it to the door and I just wave him off. 

"No, I just didn't think you guys would actually show," Brendon answers them, his voice sounds uncertain, as if he's not quite sure how to talk to the parents who kicked him out of the house. I wouldn't know either, I've never really been good at anything when it comes to parents.

"We got here a bit late, but it was a good show regardless," Brendon's father says, speaking for the first time. Brendon's head snaps up from his looking down at his shoes and he makes eye contact with his father. His face is just as surprised as mine. "Oh, excuse our manners," he turns to face me holding out his hand, "I'm Boyd Urie, and this," he motions to Brendon's mom, "Is Grace Urie. It's nice to meet you..." he trails off waiting for me to answer as I shake his hand.

"Ryan. Ryan Ross, it's nice to meet you to Mr. and Mrs. Urie," I manage to get out, a bit more surprised. I wasn't sure they had acknowledged my presence.

"Oh please, Boyd and Grace would be better. None of that formal stuff," I nod my head in understanding and he turns to face Brendon again. "It was a very good show Brendon. Would you mind if we went back to the house to talk? You with us?"

Brendon faces at me, a lost look clouding his features. I step forward and pull him in for a one armed hug and whisper in his ear that he'll be fine. A camera flashes and I break the hug looking around to see that one of our photographers had taken it. I frown at him and he shrugs, leave it to them to take pictures at the worst times. I give Brendon a reassuring nod before leaving him with his parents and I head to the room with Spence and Brent waiting for me.

***

 _"Ryan Ross. Hey buddy. So I have some really great news,"_ Pete tells me over the phone. Spencer and I are walking down the main street in town. We were on the way to grab some lunch and hang out because it's been a pretty long time since the two of us did anything together. We hadn't even celebrated our birthday's this year because we had been recording. 

"Well 'great news' with you Pete usually comes with a double meaning," I answer. Spencer stops walking to look over at me and mouth the words 'Pete again?'. I nod and he sighs. His usual reaction to Pete.

 _"Well I mean if you don't want to know I guess I won't say anything, you'll just miss out on the best couple of months of your lives..."_  Pete trails off and this time it's me who stops in my tracks.

"Pete, what do you mean 'few months'?" I grab Spencer's arm and pull him closer to my ear so he can hear the phone as well. He can't get too close because of the stupid hat Jac made for me to wear. 

 _"Well, the Nintendo Fusion Tour starts soon and well I might have gone behind your backs and got you all on the tour,"_ I can hear him smiling through the phone, and I think I head laughter in the background. 

"You're shitting me right now"

 _"Am not,"_  laughter breaks out in the background of wherever Pete is. 

"When does it start?" Spencer is grinning at me, listening to the whole conversation.

 _"September 28th. The day after the album release. I'll be flying you guys up here with us, and we'll get you your own bus and all the other stuff. All you guys have to do is basically follow us around and we show you guys what to do. You guys will be flying up here to Chicago a day after tomorrow, so make sure everything is ready to go by tomorrow night. Sorry for the short notice. Love ya Ross!"_ With that Pete hangs up the phone and I'm left holding it to my face, mouth agape staring at Spence, whose basically mirrors mine.

Our whole lunch is eaten in a kind of surprised silence. Just three days ago we played our first show and now we're going on tour with Fall Out Boy. Spence and I can't stop grinning, even as we drive all the way to the apartment. 

I call Brendon immediately because since the show he's been going over to his parents a lot more. They told him he’s allowed back at the house as much as he wants, and they ‘aren’t mad he decided to get his own place’. Though I’m not sure how true that is.

I can't even finish telling him before he yells into the phone. I hear the phone drop and loud cheering coming from the background. He tells me he'll be here in an hour. When he hangs up I call Jac and tell her about the tour, not really because I want to, but simply because I maybe if I tell her on such short notice she won't be able to come. 

Unfortunately she didn't have plans, so now she's tagging along for the tour. Brendon called me back later and said Audrey would be joining us to. This is going to make for a very interesting tour to say the least.

***

And now we're flying. It’s a pretty quiet flight. I somehow got seated next to Brent, and I can’t help but to glare at him most of the time. Ever since he said the thing about Brendon and I during dinner I can’t pretend to like him. I can’t be bothered to act civil towards him, since he thought the same thing that night apparently.

When we make it to the hotel, we're told where our rooms are and bell boys take out luggage to our rooms. Brendon and I to one room and Spencer and Brent to another. Pete set up everything, and probably based the room arrangements based on our current living situations.

I don’t have a problem with the hotel room arrangements, but Brent does. He’s still hung on the fact that he thinks Brendon and I go at it like rabbits. It’s pretty hilarious because we’ll both Brendon and I have girlfriends, and have had sex with them, at least to my knowledge Brendon has.

Apparently we're supposed to see our bus today, then we drive to Michigan tomorrow, then the tour starts the very next day. We will also be meeting our manager tomorrow on the road as well. It's going to be a pretty hectic three days. 

Our hotel room has two separate twin beds, just like the apartment, so at least we’ll have some normalcy in that matter.

Both Brendon and I are too tired to even keep up a conversation as we undress into clothes to sleep in. We both make it into our beds at the same time and before Brendon turns off the bedside lamp he gives me a small smile.

“Goodnight Ryan” He turns off the light and I hear him adjusting himself to get comfortable. Once he stills I look over and try to adjust my eyes to the darkness. Unfortunately they don’t, so I’m just staring at the darkness.

“Goodnight Brendon,” I whisper into the direction of Brendon.

“Night Ryan”

“Night Brendon”

“Ryan”

“Brendon”

“Goodnight Ryan”

“Go to bed Brendon,” my voice a sad attempt at seriousness. I can’t escape the tiny, quiet laugh that follows.

“I will when you do,” I hear his bed rustle and his voice sounds closer, like he turned to face me.

“Brendon.”

“Mhmm?”

“You’re such a dork. Did you know that?” I whisper but I can’t stop myself from laughing quietly.

“Did you know that whale dicks are called dorks?” I surprise myself by laughing out loud.

“That can’t be true,” my voice disbelieving.

“I swear it. I’m pretty sure it was on Animal Planet or something like that,” Brendon answers defensively. A moment of silence follows, but it’s broken by both our laughter. After a couple minutes it grows quiet again and Brendon voices quietly, “Goodnight Ry”.

“Goodnight Bren,” I feel the tiny grin on my face, and this time I don’t try and fight it.

Tonight I dream of Brendon and I scuba diving with a bunch of different whales. He just keeps pointing underneath them and mouthing ‘dork’. We both laugh so much underwater we use up our oxygen and have to leave the whales, but Brendon says it was worth it.

I wish I could stop dreaming about Brendon, and maybe dream about something more practical. But I’ve never been the person to be practical.

***

We just met our manager Todd and he was interesting to say the least. He was a pretty eccentric guy, probably could give Bren a run for his money. And now Pete is dying to show us our bus. Or at least he’s been basically shaking with excitement since we met them at the hotel.

Brendon is talking to Spence and Brent is following behind them and I’m in the middle of a conversation with Pete when I realize I haven’t heard a thing he’s said. I just nod at the most recent thing he’s said and hope it was a yes or no question. Thankfully I won’t have to figure that out because we’ve arrived at the parking garage where all of our buses are.

Brendon is the first to run over to the bus as soon as Pete points at it. He seriously sprints to the bus and almost slams into the side because he trips on his own feet.

It’s not as big as Fall Out Boy’s bus, but that’s to be expected, they’re the main act. We’re just those ‘emo’ dudes from Vegas that are in that one ‘circus freak’ video on MTV.

It’s completely black and has our logo on the side in red paint. It’s pretty boring compared to the others but it doesn’t really matter, we’re going to be on the inside most of the time.

We step inside, Brendon leading the way, of course. The driver’s area has two seats, both a tan colored leather and there’s a divider to separate them from the rest of the bus. The lounge area seats aren’t leather like the driver’s seats, but they’re the same color, and they aren’t very soft. We’ve got a tiny little stove with two burners and a microwave above that. Opposite that is our fridge, which seems pretty big for it being on a tour bus. Pete mentions that we have to buy our own food if we want it.

There’s another divider between the lounge area and the bunks. The bunks, since there’s only four of them, are larger and longer than regular tour buses. Brendon immediately hops on the top left one, claiming it as his and before anyone else has the chance to claim the remaining top bunk I slam my hand down on it. Brendon grins and high fives me over the head of a frowning Spencer. Brent looks like he’s accepted his fate of being permanently on the bottom bunk. I try to hide my smug smile.

Spencer looks at the door leading into the back bedroom, raising a questioning eyebrow when he hears the snoring coming from the other side of the door. He opens it and all our eyes immediately go to the sleeping man in the bed.

He’s got a lot of tattoos, most on his legs and a few on his arms. It looks like he could easily kill us all. He’s got the height and weight to prove it. Brendon, of course, is the first to reach over and tap him on the ankle. The man stirs slowly and with a scowl on his face. Rather than looking at Brendon, the man who woke him from his deep slumber, he glares at me. I shoot back a sneer and cross my arms across my chest.

“Names Zack Hall. Are you little shits the band?” The man we now know as Zack deadpans.

“Names Spencer and that’s Ryan, Brendon and Brent. And yeah, us ‘little shits’ are the band. Sorry to break it to you,” Spence answers for all of us, pointing at each person successively. Brent and Brendon wave when he glances at them. I’m determined to keep up my petulance as long as I can until Zack cracks. It should be an interesting way to keep my mind off things during this tour.

“Well I’m your guys’ body guard, right hand man, whatever you need basically. Ask and you shall receive-” he breaks off and glares at us all, folding his arms over his chest, “-that does. Not. Make. Me. Your. Bitch. So get that straight or we will have problems”. He finishes with a dark look at us all again. We all nod in agreement, though my nod is less perceivable. “I’m going back to sleep if you don’t have anything else to say”. Before we get the chance to speak he closes the door in our faces and we’re all left standing there in either amazement or annoyance.

We spend the rest of the night loading our things onto the bus and talking to Pete in the lounge. He explains how the tour is going to go and the rules. It lasts till January of 2006 and we have the weeks of Christmas and Thanksgiving off and a couple random days off between the shows so we don’t all loose our minds. Overall it’s not a very long tour, but it’s apparently a pretty important tour. We’re all pretty glad to be kind of under Fall Out Boy’s wing or else this would be a lot more stressful than it already is.

It’s about eleven at night by the time Brendon, of all people, announces he’s tired. He heads to the bunks, pulling the divider shut. I find myself yawning throughout the next hour as we try and keep up the conversation with Pete, which for me is slightly awkward. The conversation that is. We haven’t seen each other since the ‘incident’ and I’m not sure if he remembers as much as I do, but he seems to be keeping it under wraps pretty well so I try to act as indifferent as I can.

It’s about midnight by the time I excuse myself to my bunk. There’s a space for my clothes right above my bed, and I grab a pair of blue plaid sleep pants and a dark blue t shirt to change into.

We made rules for the bathroom when we we’re all sitting in the lounge. Only peeing in the bus bathroom, anything else and you sleep on the roof or you drive and the actual bus driver gets your bunk. So we make sure to follow those rules pretty strictly. I make sure to just use the bathroom to change before heading back to my bed.

By this time the entire bus seems quiet. It seems Spencer and Brent have already headed to their bunks and are asleep. Their curtains covering the bunks are pulled closed.

I have a thought, and before I can stop myself I’m pushing Brendon’s curtain aside slightly, enough to peak in and see if he’s still sleeping.

He’s facing away from me so it’s a bit harder to tell if he’s asleep or if he’s pretending. But his side is rising and falling at a snail’s pace, so it’s safe to assume he’s actually sleeping. I drop his curtain and let it fall back to cover the bunk and I hop in mine. It’ll take some getting used to, and I hope I don’t sit up too quickly because I’ll probably knock myself out on the top of the cramped space.

I roll over on my side and try to pretend that Jac isn’t going to be here bright and early in the morning. Try to ignore the fact that we’re starting our first official tour tomorrow. Try to ignore the anxious feeling growing slowly deep in my stomach. Anxiety that I’m not very sure how it got there. Or why I get the same feeling whenever I come within a twenty meter radius of our front man. I think I’ll ignore that to. Because ignoring everything you can until it piles up and finally spills over at the worst moment is probably the best choice I could make at this moment.

I’m always so bad at choices.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I messed up. Harry Potter came out in November, not September, which is when the boys went to see it. So we're all gonna pretend it did bc canon writing is pretty difficult.  
> ******Also I didn't add in the Sins video being done because there wasn't much to write about it. So it was one of the things that happened while they began recording. That was their first video, which they recorded around August time. Since that was a single from the Album the video was released early. For the sake of the fic, this has already happened. Thank you. ******


	9. 'Save Me From My Girlfriend'

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> sorry it's so short :/  
> check end for notes

I’m woken by a sharp jab to my shoulder. I jerk awake from one of the best dreams I’ve had in a while and my head slams into the top of the bunk.

“Son of a bit-” I stop myself from finishing the statement when I see who woke me.

Zack, our new bodyguard, right hand whatever man, stands in front of me. His arms are crossed and judging by the look on his face, he is extremely unimpressed or unamused. Probably both.

“There’s two girls here to see you and Brendon. They’ve said they were your girlfriends, but I didn’t believe them,” Zack states like he means something else by his choice of words. I rub my hand across my forehead, pushing my hair off of it and groan.

“Why not?” My voice, which I tried to make sound more intimidating, sounds exasperated instead.

Rather than answering Zack just snorts and gives me an obvious once over as if to say ‘look at yourself, then tell me why I didn’t believe them’. Or maybe I’m just paranoid. It’s not like I’m the most drop dead gorgeous man on the planet, but I’m in a band, and if anything is attractive to a woman, it’s that.

Unless his once over wasn’t about my appearance. But I don’t think he could pick up on the fact that I basically said I would fuck Brendon. I’m not that obvious about my attraction to the younger man. And it’s not like I’m attracted to any other men. Well besides Pete Wentz and his friend Gabe. But that’s just three guys and I’m almost completely certain Zack couldn’t possibly pick up on that. I’m also almost completely certain I’m overreacting and being paranoid, it’s not even ten am yet.

“Okay, well anyways, you were wrong to not believe them, because they are Brendon and I’s girlfriends. Why couldn’t you have woken him up and had him deal with them?” My reply to Zack is probably a bit more attitude than I should have given him, but I’m still trying to see how long I can be petty for until he snaps.

“Because he’s not on the buss assface”. _Assface, I’ll give him some points for originality._

“What do you mean not on the bus?”

“Not here. As in Brendon, who should be here, sleeping in this bunk,” he pauses and holds open Brendon’s curtain, which reveals an empty, but slept in, bunk, “is not sleeping in his bunk. He’s not anywhere on the bus. He hasn’t called anyone, or left a note. That’s what I mean by not on the bus”. Zack might give Brent a run for his money in the ‘I’m the biggest asshole’ competition.

“Fucking hell,” I whisper, more to myself, but Zack raises his eyebrows as if to say ‘Well yeah, duh’. “Could you distract our girlfriends while I go look for him?” Zack narrows his eyes at me, but I shoot him a pleading look, and he sighs. But before he can speak I hop out of the bunk and head through the bus towards the door.

Zack follows me and shoots me a final glare before heading out the door to greet Audrey and Jac. I make sure to stay hidden to the side as the door opens. I hear a loud voice that sounds like Jac, so I peek through the blinds.

Jac looks like she’s giving Zack hell, but he just stands still, wearing an annoyed expression on his face. Eventually he says something, which I can’t understand, and Audrey puts her hand on Jac’s arm to silence her. She nods, and Zack leads them away from the bus.

 I remind myself to thank him even more later on, probably buy him a drink, if he drinks. He probably does, looking at him, but you never know. I’m off the bus and outside walking when I realize that one; I’m still in my sleep attire, two; we’re not where we were last night, and three; my head is killing me from where I’ve just recently slammed it into the roof of the bunk.

I glance around, with my hand shading my eyes from the glaring sun, trying to figure out where in hell we are. There’s not many places Brendon could’ve run off to. We’re in some tiny town that’s got one gas station, where we’re currently at, and about forty churches. I really don’t understand why there needs to be churches at all, much less forty of them. But I’m not a religious person, so I don’t really have a say on the amount of churches allowed in a single town.

The nearest church seems like the best place to start the search for Brendon. Maybe his he hasn’t abandoned his Mormon ways completely. I’m not sure how Mormonism works, but I think Brendon doesn’t care about the rules that much, so he could be in any of the churches, rather than a strictly Mormon one. 

The doors are a bit heavier and more omniscient than I expected church doors to be. I felt like I was walking into a funeral procession rather than a ‘place of god’.

The outside of the church had been all white painted wood and it seemed a lot smaller on the outside. This place was like a clown car, small on the outside, but somehow able to fit more people inside than it should.

I gaze around through all the pews and laugh to myself, thinking about our music video. But my silent laughs end when I realize Brendon isn’t anywhere to be found. I sigh audibly, though there’s no one around to hear, and walk back outside the church.

The sunlight is still just as bright and blinding as it was when I stepped off the bus. My head begins to pound instantly. I set off for down the road to where I see the sign for another church.

This one says it’s a Catholic Church, and it’s a bit bigger than the other. At least by the looks of the outside. It’s more modern looking, red brick and white trimming. The kind of way you would expect a church to look like these days. And it’s two stories.

I pull open the double white doors and cross the threshold without burning in hellfire. There’s a couple people in here, heads bent, sitting at the end of the pews. Silently praying to a God that doesn’t exist. I almost feel bad for them, they think their praying is going to help them, but there’s no one that’s going to help, no higher power. If they would just take a look at the world and all its problems they would realize there is no God, because no person, who can supposedly control everything, would allow the kind of suffering this world endures.

The doors shut and a couple people turn their heads, seeing who was interrupting their ‘silent service’, but the one person I need to lift and turn their head doesn’t.

Brendon is sitting alone, at the far end of the very first pew on the right. He’s not praying, just sitting silently with his head leaning back on the pew, eyes closed.

I stride towards him silently, so I don’t alert him, and step into the pew. I slide my way across until I’m pressed against his side, only then does he lift his head and open his eyes slowly. He grins, and I find that my face mirrors his after a second. I can’t help to return his grins every time he graces me with one.

He grins at everyone, that wide, close lipped grin that brightens up the world. His eyes light up and scrunch at the sides, and it makes his cheeks look bigger, but it’s one of the most beautiful grins I’ve seen. There could’ve been a million words to use instead of beautiful, but it’s more fitting. Brendon is simply beautiful. He knows it, and it shows. But I don’t think he knows what it does to me. It’s the little things like his grin that get me.

“Watcha thinkin about?” He muses, breaking his grin, only to lean his head on my shoulder. His fist balls loosely and he punches me lightly in the leg. I return the punch, just as soft and don’t answer for a moment.

“Things, I suppose,” my voice is a quiet whisper. It still feels too loud because of the almost dead silence in this place. The only other noise is the even more silent whisper of someone’s prayer. It’s almost creepy, the way they sound like they’re chanting.

“I thought you’d catch on fire the moment you stepped inside,” Brendon deadpans, and for a moment I think he’s serious, but he looks up at me through black lashes, and I see the playful grin.

“You know, I was thinking the same thing”.

“Great minds think alike”. He’s quiet again after that, and I think that he’s sleeping. Brendon’s gone still and his breathing has evened out significantly.

I break the silence, “Wanna talk about it?” I’m not sure if he’ll answer me honestly. To be honest I’m not quite sure why he left the bus and came to sit in a church.

He stands up without answering and my shoulder feels cold suddenly, lacking the heat from his head. He holds his hand out to help me up, a sad smile on his face, and I want to know when that got there. I remain seated, hoping he’ll understand that I’m not moving until he explains. So I cross my arms and form a slight pout.

Brendon shakes his head, but it’s not because of my childish petulance. I give in immediately and take his hand. It’s taken me a while to get on Brendon’s good side, and stay on it. So if he doesn’t feel like talking to me, I won’t push it, especially if he’s this stubborn about it his decision to stay quiet.

We walk side by side in silence until we reach the church doors and Brendon pushes them open. “How many churches did you look through before you found me?”

“Only one actually. If I had to go through more than five looking for you, I think I might have left you, and I would’ve had to sing for us.”

“You would’ve missed me.”

“A little I guess,” I hope he hears the lighthearted tone of my voice.

He grins and ruffles my hair, knocks his shoulder to mine. “Yeah sure, you say that now, but you would’ve missed me a lot. Who else is gonna bother you all day?”

“I suppose Spence would have to do that, but his butt isn’t as cute.”

“Isn’t as cute? Mines the cutest Ryan Ross, don’t forget it” Brendon laughs out loud enough to catch the attention of a few people walking around town. They send us annoyed looks but Brendon and I both just stick our tongues out at them.

We continue walking back to the bus, awaiting the hell that is our girlfriends, in silence. Before we step on Brendon gives me a onceover. “You know, you’re still in your sleep pants right?”

I look down for the first time and remember that I am in fact wearing them still. Though I knew this when I left the bus this morning. I was too worried about Brendon being in trouble, rather than being worried about what people would think of my attire.

“Hmm, I guess I am,” I reply as if just now noticing for the first time. Brendon sends me a raised eyebrow, but I shrug and pull open the bus door.

We’re greeted with high pitched screams and warm bodies jumping into our arms. Jac almost knocks me over and I stumble backwards as she continues her assault. I feel her mouth kissing my face, every inch of it and I try to not act like this is the last thing I wanted.

“Hey babe,” I manage through her kisses. Her mouth is sticky on account of the lip gloss she’s wearing and I can feel it all over my face. I glance over at Brendon and see he’s getting the same treatment, but somehow he manages to look like this was the best thing that’s happened to him in years. He’s grinning widely and kissing Audrey back with more force than I’ve seen him give. Almost like he’s forcing himself to like it. But I can’t make assumptions, because he could, in fact, like her as much as he says he does.

“I’ve missed you so much Ryan, you wouldn’t even believe,” Jac is somehow able to manage between her attack on my face.

All four of us are still outside of the bus, so I take the initiative and nudge the door open with my foot, since my hands are holding Jac to me, and step inside. I sit on the couch in the lounge area, and Jac straddles me, still trying to get me to kiss her back, but I can’t bring myself to kiss her like I should in front of anyone. When she realizes that we’re in the company of others she pulls herself off me and sits beside me, yet still draping herself across me by laying her head in my lap.

Brendon and Audrey sit across us on the other couch and I make brief eye contact with Brendon before he looks back towards his girlfriend.

It’s then when I remember why we couldn’t get back on the road in the first place, I had to get Brendon back on the bus. Jac begins to say something to me, but I excuse myself to Zack’s bedroom to tell him that we can leave now. Jac forms a pout but I press a quick kiss to her lips and stand up.

Brendon and Audrey are in deep conversation as I leave the room, and neither notice a less excited Jac laying alone on the couch now.

I don’t knock as I open the divider into Zack’s quarters. I flop onto his bed beside him and shove my face as far into the pillow as I can and let out an angry groan.

“I didn’t know so much anger could come out of such a skinny guy,” Zack snorts but doesn’t stir from his sleep.

“Save me from my girlfriend”. My voice is muffled by the pillow, but it’s still understandable.

“I’ve already done that once today.”

“Can you do it again, but like permanently?”

“Why are you with her if you don’t want her here dumbass?” With that I look up at him, hoping to give him my best irritated glare. “I told you yesterday I’m not your bitch. If you don’t want your girlfriend here, tell her to leave yourself,” Zack answers with a finality I can’t argue with.

I groan once more before lifting myself off the bed. As I stretch my arms above my head, twisting my back so it’ll crack I tell Zack that Brendon is back, that I found him.

He nods and follows me out of the back room. We’re greeted by Audrey sitting in Brendon’s lap, completely oblivious to everyone else. She’s sucking on his neck, most likely trying to claim him before any of the so called ‘groupies’ get to him.

It’s not the groupies she has to worry about.

I try to not look at them, so instead I focus on my girlfriend. She’s followed Zack up to the driver’s seat, deep in conversation. It looks like she’s trying to convince him of something. I ignore that to and check the time on my phone. It’s still before noon so I decide to lay back down now that the crisis has been averted.

I’m asleep the moment my head hits the pillow. Vaguely I remember Jac waking me up so she can scoot in and try in fit in the tiny bunk with me. She snuggles up to my side and presses her face into my neck, her lips brushing them in a sort of ‘goodnight kiss’. I turn my head to the side and kiss her hair in return. The last thing I feel before I fall asleep again is the curve of her lips into a smile against my neck.

 For once I don’t have to fake my feeling of happiness when it comes to Jac. This is how it could be, comfortable. Maybe not full of passion, but somewhat safe, and somewhat stable. That’s more than I’ve had throughout my life and although Jac isn’t Brendon, she has been kind and understanding. That’s what I need right now. Not some boy who makes me feel things I never wanted to.

***

We made it to the venue last. All the other bands on this tour left earlier than us, and weren’t held up by a missing bandmate.

We don’t have the time to meet the other bands before we’re rushed into sound check. Zack leads us past all the waiting fans, not many people recognize us, but the few that do jab their friends and point. Brendon waves at some of them and I manage a smile, although it feels more like a grimace. Spencer tries to stop and talk to a few people, but he’s pushed on by Zack to continue walking. Brent looks like he’s a bit scared of all the people and I fight off the shit eating grin that tries to force itself in the place of my grimace.

I managed to change out of my sleep clothes and into black skinny jeans and a white t shirt, my newsboy cap holding all my hair back. Our stage clothes will be waiting for us in the dressing room after sound check.

The next thing I know Zack is leading us through the venue halls and to the stage, thrusting us out to test out our instruments. Apparently all of the other bands have gone already since they’ve been here for a while.

The moment I take my guitar from the stand I feel at home. The tightness of the strap on my shoulder feels familiar and ends the anxiety I didn’t know I had. Everyone else has their instruments, even Brendon is holding one of my guitars. It looks like we’ll be playing a couple of our songs he harmonizes with me.

We’re all spread out at our places on the stage, me to Brendon’s right, and Brent to his left. Spencer behind Brendon but slightly to the right so he can be seen by the crowd.

I gaze out into the empty seats and try not to let my nerves get to me again. Those seats will be filled full of chanting people, and many of them not here for us. I would be surprised if many of them knew the lyrics and that might be a good thing. I won’t have to know if my words were adequate enough for them.

Before I can dwell on this any longer Spencer taps his sticks together and we begin playing. We’ve had to simplify the bass on the songs so Brent could be useful. The songs don’t sound as polished but at least Brendon doesn’t have to play the bass and sing. He’s more of a performer on stage, he likes to bounce around and move. At least he did during our first show. Apparently it helps with his anxiety and hyperactive disorder.

Just because it’s sound check doesn’t stop Brendon from working up a sweat, not that it takes much movement for him to sweat, but he doesn’t hold anything back.

We make it through a couple of our songs, not the entirety of them, but enough to know our instruments and voices are working correctly. By the time we’ve finished Brendon’s hair is plastered to his forehead and his shirt is basically glued to his body. It looks as if he’s just stepped out of the shower. I’ve hardly broken a sweat, although I don’t really sweat, the difference between the two of us is astounding.

When we’re allowed to head backstage to the changing rooms, we make it there quickly, hoping we’ll have a little time to freshen up and change. Brendon heads immediately to the showers and I stick around alone in the changing room as Spencer follows Brendon and Brent heads back to the bus to grab something he says he forgot.

There’s thirty minutes before we’re supposed to be on and I’ve grown anxious again. I have no explanation, or at least I can’t think of a major reason to be anxious, I just don’t think I’ll get over the nerves of being in front of thousands of people.

We’ve all changed into our stage clothes. I’m wearing a white long sleeve dress shirt with a black vest, black pants with white pinstripes, and my newsboy cap adorning my head.

Brendon’s wearing a red long sleeve dress shirt, but his sleeves are rolled up, black dress pants and he’s abandoned his red glasses. I’m not sure why but I keep it in the back of my mind to ask him after the show.

Spencer is wearing the same thing as me, minus the newsboy cap, and his vest is grey.

Brent is wearing black dress pants and a black dress shirt.

Brendon’s hair, I’ve just noticed is still wet, probably from the shower, but it could be from recent sweat. We’re all sitting backstage, and Pete has just joined us along with the rest of Fall Out Boy.

I try not to let myself stare at any of them for too long, but they seem to understand. Brendon makes easy conversation with them, as he’s helped record a song on their most recent album. They all are already acquaintances. I want to be jealous but I’m mainly happy for Brendon and his voice being recognized for the talent he has. He’s seventeen and has been gifted with one of the most beautiful and pleasing voices of this generation. In fact Brendon has more talent in his pinky finger than I’ve got in my entire family history. I find it funny that knowing that doesn’t bother me at all. I’m the most egocentric person I know, but when it comes to Brendon I can’t find myself caring about anything other than him. That’s why he’s too dangerous for me. That’s why I’m sticking with Jac.

He makes it really damn hard to stick with my decision. Especially right now. He’s praising my lyrics in his conversation with Patrick. Both of them seem to go back and forth talking about my songs and the talent that’s in all of us. He’s talking to my idol, the man whose voice I’ve praised silently a million times over. The man who I wish could give me just an ounce of his talent, and then maybe I would be worth something. And he’s talking to Brendon. And they’re talking about me and the band. I try not to think about how that makes me feel.

Andy and Joe are deep in conversation with Brent, about what I’m not sure because I don’t think Brent is interesting enough to hold a conversation after introducing himself.

Spencer and Pete are whispering to each other, and on occasion look over at me, taking a break from their conversation, then continue on as if I didn’t catch them glancing at me. It worries me why they’re being so secretive, but I don’t think I have the guts to go speak to Pete at the moment.

I’m content to sit by myself on the couch, deep within my own mind. Not that I don’t do that always, it’s just slightly more acceptable right now. My leg bounces up and down so I lean my elbows down onto them, twisting my hands in front of me, trying to steel myself.

It’s just now hit me that we’re about to play our first actual show. Not some tiny little performance in a restaurant, but an actual show in front of an actual crowd. People here to see Fall Out Boy and all the other popular acts that are with us.

My arms and legs feel cold, but my hands are tingling and I can’t think straight. There’s going to be so many people in front of us. They probably won’t like us because we’re different. They’ll think we’re just a couple of dumb teenage boys trying to be the next big ‘boy band’. I’ve put my heart into all of these songs and they’re going to be spat back at me like last weeks spoiled milk.

All the reviews are going to want to know why Fall Out Boy’s Pete Wentz signed the ‘band of children from Lost Vegas’. They’ll want to know why he wasted his time and energy on some worthless teenager who thought he could write songs that people could relate to, that people could connect with. But that worthless boy was wrong because no one will relate, because his songs aren’t actually relatable. They’re ‘fake deep’ and about things that never happen to people.

“Ryan- Ryan hey, are you okay?” Brendon’s voice breaks me from my stupid self-destructive thoughts. I follow his gaze down to my hands to realize they’re clenched together and almost purple. I had been squeezing them together very tightly apparently. Also the entire room had ceased their conversations as well. All to stare at me and my now less purple hands.

I don’t have an answer to give Brendon because I’m not sure I can tell him I’m alright, when I’m clearly not. But if I say I’m not than that’s it, shows over, no guitarist. Rather than speak I just meet his eyes with mine, hoping he’ll understand.

I’m guessing he understands because the next thing I know he’s hauling me to my feet and excusing us out of the room. He leads me through the venue to the bathroom. Once we’re inside he locks the door and turns to me. I can’t find it in myself to change the expression on my face, so I just opt for the neutral mindless expression I always wear.

His hand flies up and smacks me across the face. “Fucking hell Brendon! What was that for?” I demand, reaching my hand up to clasp my cheek.

“I don’t know! They do it in the movies all the time. You know? Like when someone gets that vacant expression on their face and they get spaced out. And usually in the movies they slap them and kiss them or something like that, so I just opted for slapping you and please tell me it worked,” his voice trails off in a sort of pleading manner near the end of his statement.

I stare at him, now with a surprised expression because he can’t be that unbelievably naïve. “Brendon! This. Isn’t. The. Movies!”

“Well sorry for trying to stop you from tearing your hands off your arms! What’s your problem anyways? You’ve ignored me since we got back on the bus. You’ve practically attached yourself to Jac’s hip until she had to go back on the bus. You’ve told me thousands of times that you’re only with her because of the sex. So what’s changed?” It’s almost funny how Brendon sounds concerned and a little hurt.

“So that’s what this is about? Me and Jac? Unbelievable,” I throw my hands up in the air and turn around so I’m not facing him because if I see his face I might slap him too. “Brendon not fucking everything is you!”

“Oh that’s really high and mighty coming from the hypocrite himself!”

“Oh fuck you! Fuck off. I didn’t ask for your help!” I shout as I spin around and face him again.

“Do you know how childish you’re acting right now Ryan? You’re throwing a fit because your friend tried to help you like you helped him. Why can’t you put your fucking pride aside for one moment and see that I had no ulterior motive behind this Ryan. I pulled you out of that room because you looked like I felt. You helped reel me back in before our other show and I was just trying to do the same for you. So maybe the whole slapping deal wasn’t the way to go about it, but fuck me for trying,” he declares, crossing his arms across his chest. Brendon’s face is unreadable and once again he’s proved that I am in fact a child who needs to get over themselves. I’m left speechless because there’s no way I can really come up with a snarky reply to that.

“I’m uh-” my voice cracks, “I’m sorry about that. That was uncalled for. You’re right.” Brendon gives me a look as if to say ‘well of course I’m right’.

We stand facing each other for a few moments in silence. Brendon isn’t smiling or grinning, but his expression has finally softened and considerably less angry looking. I’m not sure what I look like at the moment, but my face is probably just as awkward as I feel.

I’m the one who breaks first and leans in with my arms open, pulling Brendon close to me. He opens his arms and pulls me in just the same and my head leans in the crook of his neck.

I close my eyes and breathe in, tightening my arms around his upper and lower back. I’m not quite sure why I hugged him, because I’m not really a person who hugs, but it felt right and I suppose it was one of those things I just really needed at the time. It’s another one of those moments that will probably flash before my eyes in my seconds of clarity before dying.

Brendon mumbles something into my neck, and I begin to lean back to ask if he can repeat himself but then someone knocks on the door and I practically leap away from him.

The person, who voices through the door says it’s just Pete, so Brendon unlocks the door. I can’t see the look on his face, but I don’t think it’s any happier than when we first stepped in here.

Pete walks in and raises an eyebrow at both our expressions, and probably the awkward way I’m standing. I always look like I’m guilty of something. “You guys are on in five, I just came to get you both.”

Brendon and I both nod at the same time and make our way to the door in silence. Pete waits silently by the door and lets Brendon through, holding the door open for him. But when I try to step past he holds out his arm, blocking me from walking. Brendon doesn’t seem to notice and continues walking.

I try not to gulp noticeably. I haven’t been alone with Pete since the whole ‘payment for signing us’ thing went down. Although I don’t think he remembers it, I do. It’s not like I’m completely ashamed of it, I just wish it didn’t happen. At least not in that manner.

Pete is already dressed and ready for their set. They’re either on after us or after that act. His eyes are lined and smudged, his hair flattened, the dyed red parts standing out from his jet black hair. His unconventional attractiveness put on display through his difference in style.

He gives me a once over, which I’m sure makes my face go red, but he doesn’t say anything about it. I know I can feel the heat crawling up through my body. But before I’m able to say something I might regret he opens his mouth first.

“Ryan, you’ll do fine. I know you will. I’m not really the one who’s good at motivational speeches, or advice, that’s Patrick. But I do know talent when I see it. And I know when someone is worried about what they write. Believe me I know. I’ve had my fair share of problems. I know you have to, and I just want you to know it’s alright. It’ll get better. Going on stage will get easier. Letting the fans listen to your every feeling, your heart and soul in a song-” he takes a break to breathe in, “- I’m still working on that, but it gets easier. You have a right to be nervous, or angry or scared, but what you don’t have, is the right to give up. You started this band, and you’re gonna go through with it.”

For someone who supposedly isn’t good at advice or motivational speeches, that was pretty damn good. In a way it makes me feel for Pete because, like Brendon said I am egotistical, and Pete voicing the fears I have, knowing we share them, it makes me want to know what Pete meant by ‘fair share of problems’.

“You know I love ya kid. I wouldn’t have taken a chance on you four if I hadn’t. And I suppose I’ll just end this by saying that I’m here for you. I just want you to know that Ryan. If you feel like you have nobody, always remember I’m right here.” Then I’m pulled into my second hug in the past five minutes.

I hug him back, not as hard as I hugged Brendon, but still tight. I mumble “Thank you Pete,” because I’m not sure what to say. Also the second time I’ve been silenced by another person’s words to me. Pete lets me go and gives me one of his characteristically wide ‘Pete Wentz grins’ and knocks my news cap to the side to ruffle my hair.   

Then it seems to hit both of us that I’m supposed to be on stage now basically. Pete smiles at me one more and ushers me back through the venue and to the side of the stage where the rest of the band is waiting. Spencer and Brendon try to meet my eyes but I stare at the ground and accept the guitar handed to me.

The lights on the stage go dim as the other band who was on before us bbows and walk off stage. They smile at us as they past, and so and so –the lead singer- pats my back, wishes me good luck and then heads to retreat deeper into the venue.

We kick into motion, all four of us moving like robots almost, out of the dim side stage and onto the stage itself.

I can feel my heart pounding so violently I think it might break through my ribs. I’m not sure the crowd would want to see that.

Then the lights turn on and suddenly we’re flung into the spotlight. It takes only a second before we realize what we’re all here to do, but in that second fear gripped me so forcefully I forgot to begin playing.

Everything becomes a dull murmur, the crowd screams in slow motion and I feel my head turn, like it’s being forced through sickly thick mud, to face Brendon.

He immediately takes the mic from its stand and walks over to me, still singing the words to the first song we’re playing. I know I’m playing finally, but everything seems like it’s still slowly happening, like someone has the remote to my life and is forcing this.

Brendon, after parading across the stage to stand in front of me, simply stares into my eyes. Like he has thousands of times, so this shouldn’t be anything special, but for some reason it is.

Everything suddenly snaps back into full motion. I can feel myself playing full speed, the crowds screaming slams into me and I take a step back, but cover it up as I rock my head forward with a guitar riff. Brendon jumps backwards excitedly and almost skips his way back to stand in front of the mic.

We make it through four songs, the ones we picked because we were only able to play five, and we all pause to drink water and Brendon to finally announce us.

He stands, commanding attention in the dead center of stage, the spotlight shining on him and I’ve never seen something look more perfect or fitting.

“Good evening ladies and gentleman!” Brendon begins and the crowd lets out a few cheers. “How are we all doing tonight?” At this the entire crowd screams, mostly because that’s what you’re supposed to do at a concert when the front man asks that. “We’re Panic! At The Disco from Vegas baby!-” he takes a breath and smiles over at me, “And that beautiful man over there on the guitar is Ryan Ross! Let’s give him a round of applause!” I raise my hand in a wave, a tight lipped smile forms on my face and I try not to let my nerves get to me again.

Brendon holds his hand outwards to signal Brent, “And this dear gentleman on the bass is Brent Wilson!” The crowd cheers and I don’t let it make me smile when I realize they’re not very excited for him. Though I could be imagining it.

Then Brendon steps away from the center of the stage and comes to stand near Spencer, “This other amazing person here is Spencer Smith on the drums!” The crowd roars and we all smile.

After this Brendon steps back down to stand dead center where he belongs. Stealing the show. He’s always one for dramatics, so he takes a long pause, assessing the crowd before he announces himself. “And I, ladies and gentlemen, I’m Brendon Urie. Saving the best for last of course,” he laughs, and the crowd loves it. They go wild for it. “We’ve got one more song for you guys, but first who here is excited to hear Fall Out Boy?” He almost yells into the mic.

The crowd roars, and I mean roars. Everything feels like it’s going to come down on top of us. “We’re so very thankful that they’ve decided to allow us to bother them this entire tour-” he takes another break, I’m assuming to catch his breath, “- So thank you to them. And now we’re gonna sing our last song and head off the stage so you guys can see who you really came here to see. This song is called ‘I Write Sins, Not Tragedies’ and we hope you all have enjoyed us being here as much as we do!” And with that we kick into our hit single.

Brendon performs the exact same way he does in the music video and the crowd goes wild for it. Some even try and copy the moves. I find it kind of endearing actually. I knew this was the one song many of them would know, and rather than making me nervous, I feel less anxious.

Brendon’s performance demands attention, which he gladly takes off of me. He’s a natural front man and I’ve never felt more thankful to have him in the band than right now.

The song is over before I know it and Brendon is motioning me over to stand next to him, Spencer and Brent. He tosses an arm across my shoulder and squeezes it gently, but all the while he stares out, grinning at the crowd. He yells “Thank you and goodnight!” then we’re bowing and waving. Cameras flash and people are cheering louder than I thought they would, and I can’t help but to actually grin.

When the stage lights finally turn off along with the venue lights, we step off stage to greet everyone. We’ve just played our first real show ever, on a tour with my idols and it’s the most surreal feeling. Now we have the rest of the tour to look forward to, and if the rest of the shows feel as good as this, the rest of my problems won’t matter.  

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've hardly had wifi so this is like pretty yikes and rushed.   
> **if there's any '**' or 'blah blah blah's' in this let me know. I haven't had the time or the internet to look up people, places, bands, or songs. So if you have any information on this tour please let me know. Thanks**


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